A Semblance of Loyalty
by AshenMoon42
Summary: There is no love in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Andromeda is engaged to the vile Rabastan Lestrange, and she's losing hope of any escape... until she meets Ted Tonks.
1. The Beginning

**I've finally decided to start a story where the chapters actually lead on from one another, so please tell me how it is.**

 **Rated T - nothing explicit, but quite suggestive and contains minor themes of abuse later on.**

 **A Semblance of Loyalty**

"What about that Flint boy? He's a little old, but…"

"No, Druella. The Flints are barely clinging to what little gold they have left. Who knows what they'd do with Andromeda's share? Never who his brother married - the girl is from _Wales_ of all places. They must be desperate, and we don't do charity cases."

Andromeda watched as her mother and her aunt bickered over her future husband.

"Yaxley, perhaps? We haven't married into that family since Arcturus II. They're quite respectable." Walburga Black said. She was a terrifying woman, her elegant figure tall and full of sharp angles. Her eyes sparkled a deep grey, her lips were blood red, and her skin porcelain pale. Her wild hair was tamed into a severe but intricate knot, a few wisps swirling around her formidable countenance. She usually wore an expression so blank that you couldn't tell if she was human at all, but in the safety of her own home, it was twisted into her preferred scowl.

Druella frowned a little. "No. He's ten years older than her, and his mother is repulsive. A _Slughorn,_ if I'm not mistaken. We wouldn't want Christmas dinner with _that_ family." Druella, Andromeda's mother, was short and a little plump, but no less terrifying than Walburga - she carried an air of self-importance, her nose always turned up as if she was smelling dung (this expression she passed on to her youngest daughter, Narcissa) and her eyes were onyx black. She wasn't a Black by birth, but she carried the name like any other: as if she was above all other people, purebloods and mudbloods alike.

 _Muggleborns, not mudbloods._ Andromeda reminded herself.

"Well, there aren't many options left, Druella. You have to open your sights a little. She's turning seventeen soon, and soon enough all the respectable men will be taken."

"Rabastan Lestrange, then? Lucius Malfoy?"

"Lucius is closer to Narcissa's age, and you said the two of them associate with each other. Andromeda can't marry someone _younger_ than her. Save him for Narcissa. Rabastan, though… he would be a possibility. You have to ask yourself if there would be a greater advantage marrying into a different family. Bellatrix is already married to his brother."

"Yes," she murmured.

"Just think, Druella. Right now, she is young and whole, quite pretty, very curvy, with a plentiful bosom and nice wide hips. Anyone will take her - she's a Black, for Merlin's sake!"

Understandably, this assessment made Andromeda a little uncomfortable.

"But there aren't many suitable options."

Walburga tilted her head in agreement, "True."

"Better than a Yaxley, Walburga."

"Better than a Yaxley. Send a letter immediately."

And with that, Andromeda was given away to Rabastan Lestrange like an expensive object to be sold and bought and placed on a mantelpiece. Treasured, shown off at dinner parties, but not loved or considered to have feelings.

This was life in the Black family.

* * *

Andromeda hated Rabastan Lestrange with a passion. He was short and plenty handsome, with a sharp jaw and dark blue eyes and tidy brown hair. He wore neat little glasses that he liked to use to look down on people, but he didn't need them. He had a silver walking stick that he tapped against the ground at every moment, but he had no limp or other injury. He liked to collect various Dark relics (anything expensive at Borgin and Burkes) and he lined them up on his window ledge in a row but he had never used them once. He was obsessed with tiniest things, stubborn and determined to reach the end of whatever project he was working on or whatever problem he wanted solved.

It was a facade, a hundred useless distractions to steer observers away from the real Rabastan Lestrange. Despite those tidy quirks, his mind was wild. He adored the work of the Dark Lord, and he was high in the ranks of the Death Eaters himself, with that dreadful mark on his arm and blood staining his mind. He spent hours in Knockturn Alley, or locked up in the family's potions lab, and he pored over books on Dark Magic while at school. He was loud and brash (though not around adults of any kind) and had been known to get angry very easily.

They sat opposite each other at Christmas dinner, a new ring sparkling on Andromeda's finger.

"Rabastan, how is life out of school?" Druella asked, having suddenly become interested in him not that he was betrothed to her daughter.

"Well, I am climbing higher in the Dark Lord's ranks. He is a truly inspiring man, and will do great things for the world. Slowly, we will clear the world of corruption, but we aren't planning to go public yet. We're staying quiet for now." Rabastan said in that slimily smooth way of his.

Bellatrix smiled from further down the table where she sat with Rodolphus Lestrange, her new husband. "We just have to wish the next Minister for Magic shares his views. Harold Mincham is detestable. Honestly - a mudblood as our Minister!"

Andromeda looked remarkably similar to Bellatrix, but they couldn't have been more different inside. Bella was crazy and loud and seductive, and Andromeda was quiet and studious and shy.

Sirius, who was the tender age of ten, and sat beside Andromeda, frowned. "Andy, what are they talking about?"

Andromeda. Not Andy. She _hated_ being called anything but Andromeda.

"Nothing, Sirius. Just the man that's in charge of the Ministry and another man who doesn't like him."

"Oh."

Walburga's husband, Orion, chose that moment to speak up. "How is Narcissa? Is she betrothed yet?"

Druella smiled at Narcissa, "Not yet, but I've heard she's very close to Lucius Malfoy."

"A fitting match."

It certainly was. However much Andromeda loved her younger sister, she knew that Narcissa was cold and pompous. Despite being a quiet girl, she had clear views about blood purity, views that she constantly discussed with the similarly cold Lucius Malfoy, who was in her year. They could often be seen roaming the castle together, and Narcissa even looked the part - she had the pale blonde hair (where had _that_ come from?) that the Malfoy family prized. The two were already involved with each other romantically, but Andromeda wasn't sure if that was public knowledge, so she kept her mouth shut.

"And Rabastan, Andromeda … when is the wedding?"

Andromeda _did_ speak then, lest Rabastan say something she didn't approve of (they hadn't discussed marriage yet - they hadn't even _spoken_ to each other despite their engagement). "After I've finished Hogwarts. I wouldn't want a wedding to be getting in the way of exams."

Her father, Cygnus, raised a critical eyebrow, "Or for studying to be getting in the way of what is sure to be a magnificent wedding."

She smiled weakly, "Of course."

Rabastan looked down at her through his glasses in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on.

They returned to the tasteless food, which sat on an undecorated table, and on each seat sat another icy relative. Where was the Christmas spirit? The laughing, the crackers, the presents and bad jokes? Andromeda had only spent one Christmas at Hogwarts, but she was missing it already.

She didn't want to be part of this dull celebration every year. She didn't want to be at the Lestrange household, either, with a husband who she didn't love.

She wanted to laugh, but everyone here was too cold to understand that. She wanted to cry, but her father was too strict to let her express such emotion. She wanted the joy of Christmas, but her family was far too full and stuffy. She wanted a family who _loved_. She certainly didn't want to be here for Christmas ever again.

* * *

 _26/12/1969_

 _Judy,_

 _Help me! Christmases here are so stuffy, and I've just become engaged to Rabastan Lestrange. He's simply revolting! Mother didn't even_ ask _my opinion about it. I don't know what I'm going to do, because how can I love someone so repulsive? I still think that Hufflepuff beater is twice as good looking and ten times as kind. I'll have to live with Rabastan my whole life, now. I'll be in the same house - the same_ bed - _as that slimy creature!_

 _You're so lucky that your Mum's so relaxed about it, so you can marry whoever you like, even if you do have bad taste in men (honestly, Nobby Leach? He's ancient and looks like a weasel!)._

 _And this house? Aunt Walburga's idea of decoration is several plinths with house elf heads on them. The portraits snap at me to fix my hair every time I walk past. Everything is the same shade of green. I'm okay with green, but not when the toilet seat is the colour of vomit._

 _Enough about me, though. What about you? How was Christmas with your weirdo cousin? Tell me all the details!_

 _I hope you like the quills. I know you have a peculiar collection of them, so I tried to get the most interesting ones I can find._

 _Thank you for the book - I really needed a good laugh, and it's doing wonders. The only person I can stand to speak to here is Sirius, and he's ten, and isn't remotely interested in gossip._

 _Yours in boredom,_

 _Andromeda Black._

 _._

 _._

 _27/12/1969_

 _Andromeda,_

 _Stop complaining! Rabastan isn't so bad (just look at those deep blue eyes), and he's rich, so you can live in luxury. Stop thinking about 'that Hufflepuff beater' (he has a name, you know!), and think about poor little Judith Crouch, who's stuck in a house with her cousin, Barty Jr., who is an actual psychopath. And he's only seven._

 _Also, there's nothing wrong with Nobby Leach - he might be seventy-three, but he_ used _to be fit. Like, really fit. REALLY fit._

 _Christmas with Bart. Okay, let's say it was better than last year - at least he's out of the pirate phase. He already has a wand, but he knows no magic, so he set the curtains alight nineteen times, made me temporarily bald three times, and made Mum's precious new flowers wilt where they sat on the windowsill. Seriously, why did his dad give him a wand? He's SEVEN, and Bart Sr. is meant to be a responsible, important guy in the Ministry._

 _The quills are great! How did you get a fwooper feather one? It's really pretty (I can't stop staring at the colour). And the thunderbird one … it's sensational just holding such a massive thing. I can't bear to write with any of them_.

 _I'm glad you like the book, and it's a shame Sirius doesn't like listening to you gossip. You'd think he was a ten-year-old boy or something!_

 _Don't have too much fun in that stuffy, extremely well-decorated house without me,_

 _Judy xx_

* * *

New Year's Eve, and Andromeda was sitting in the drawing room with everybody else. Bellatrix and Rodolphus had left to stay at the Lestrange Manor, so only Cygnus, Druella, Andromeda, Rabastan, Narcissa, Orion, Walburga, Sirius, Regulus, and Grandfather Arcturus remained. Arcturus Black had decided to join his family for the New Year, having spent Christmas at the French Ministry sorting out some of the British Ministry's minor financial problems.

He was regal and strict, passing his cold, pale grey eyes and sharp nose to his son (Orion). The eyes themselves were unblinking and they moved slowly, like a shark's eyes. It was impossible not to look away when they rested on you. He had an impressive yet trimmed beard of a harsh snow white. The entire aura he gave was one of extreme impatience, and of course, the classic Black I'm-better-than-you vibe was loud and clear.

He wasn't even her grandfather, but he was the head of the House of Black, and that meant he was untouchable. He was to be treated with utmost respect. The family called him whatever he asked them to call him.

The seconds were counting down on the clock that had been conjured out of flame.

Arcturus stood as the numbers descended. "To a New Year full of successes. Strengthening bonds between families-" he glanced at Andromeda and Rabastan "-prospering financially-" he looked at Orion and Cygnus "-and to a future in which lesser people are put in their rightful place."

Glasses were raised, drinks were drunk, and there was a grim mutter of "Happy New Year" from all around.

Despite the word 'happy', Andromeda yet again found herself longing for fireworks or for a toast of peace rather than war, or for even an ounce of expression in Arcturus' words.

"May I retire, sir?" she asked Arcturus, bowing her head a little. "I am feeling rather tired."

"Yes. Of course."

She swept out the room and up the staircase to one of the many spare rooms, this one a particularly cosy one which she always chose when she visited. It was small, and always warm, with a small double bed and simple furniture. It generally felt very pleasant, very warm and dry and homely, and Andromeda treated it as a haven when she wanted to be rid of her family.

Once she had changed into a silk nightgown, she heard a knock on the door.

She wondered who would knock if everyone knew she was going to bed, but answered it anyway.

Rabastan. She should've known.

"Could I step in for a moment?" he asked, smooth slimy voice cutting through the silence.

She stepped aside, knowing that she couldn't refuse; knowing that he practically _owned_ her now.

That thought scared her a lot.

In the half-light of the lantern on her bedside table, she could see a slimy smirk on his face. He looked at her hungrily, eyeing her body down his nose and through his stupid glasses. His eyes rested on her lips, her breasts, her waist, her bum, her legs, all of which the nightgown did a very bad job of covering sufficiently.

"Andromeda."

"Rabastan."

In a moment, he lunged forwards, pressing her against the bed. Then his lips were on hers and his tongue was in her mouth, and she wanted to vomit. But she couldn't, because this was the man she was betrothed to. She had to deal with this. She had to deal with this for her whole life.

She pretended Rabastan was Ted Tonks, the handsome Hufflepuff beater who had only ever smiled at her once in a corridor in third year, and kissed him straight back.

His lips were as slimy as she had imagined, and she had to try hard not to retch because Ted Tonks would not taste like this at _all_. He pushed harder, his hips driving hers into the side of the bed, his hands roaming around her waist. She made herself loop her arms around his neck, forced her tongue to meet with his.

She was panicking now: how far would this go?

And now he reached his hand down to settle on her bum, squeezing a little, and she had to imagine it wasn't him. But Ted Tonks always seemed like such a gentleman, and she knew she was kidding herself.

Rabastan reached up with his other hand to her bosom, closing his fingers around one breast, tightening and twisting with every second. Now his hands were exploring too far, and his lips were still hard on hers, and then he was viciously nipping at her neck. It was like he was a vampire, trying to find the best place to bite, preying on her, ready to drain her of her life. She was actually ready for him to kill her, to sink his teeth into her neck, but he just ran his slimy lips all around her skin.

She thought love was meant to be a hot mess. She thought kisses were meant to be warm and soft. All she could feel was a damp settling into her bones, a ragged edge biting her soul.

He lowered his dirty mouth even further. The nightgown had a low neckline that revealed a lot of cleavage, so now he dragged his tongue along that line, moaning in pleasure as he did so. He licked along the revealed part of her breasts, her collarbone, drawing dreadful lines up her neck. He reached his tongue wherever he could see bare skin, and yet again Andromeda shivered in disgust.

A single tear wandered down her cheek and she wondered whether he had noticed. She wondered is he cared whether she was enjoying it. She wondered if he knew what tears were, because he seemed devoid of anything but cruelty.

He was back to her lips in a second and it was like he was trying to swallow her mouth, devour her face with his vile lips, and now one hand was reaching underneath her nightgown, trailing slowly up her bare leg, leaving snail trails in its wake.

Andromeda leapt away as his spidery fingers rose higher and higher, smacking his hand away from her skin. "Stop," she said, firmly but quietly so as not to wake anyone else, "We're out of wedlock. No further, Rabastan."

He gave her another sickening smirk. "Of course, my beautiful Andromeda. At least let me accompany you to bed."

He was still wearing his glasses, and he looked down at her through them, eyebrow raised in challenge.

She nodded dully.

He climbed in with her, pulling her hard against him. She was trapped in his arms, a useless doll. She could feel every place where he had touched her, kissed her, bitten her, licked her.

Suddenly the bedroom didn't feel as pleasant anymore.

* * *

Andromeda woke alone. She was alone in the bed, her nightgown disheveled. She could still feel the phantom of his hands on her leg, his lips on hers, his tongue on her neck. She got out of bed, and the room seemed claustrophobic, too small. It was no longer cosy and comfy and pleasant. It was choking and suffocating. She needed to get out.

She changed as quickly as possible and went downstairs.

Narcissa was the only one awake at this time, sitting at the dining table with some sort of fancy breakfast in front of her.

She looked up eagerly at Andromeda's entrance.

Narcissa, though cold, was very open with Andromeda in particular. They were much closer to each other than either was to Bellatrix, and the two had used to share a room, talking late into the night about useless gossip.

Cissy was also very beautiful (when she wasn't pulling the dung smelling face, anyway). She had platinum blonde hair and her Black grey eyes were a darker shade, and very earnest. She hadn't developed an unpleasant aura, nor did she look down on people. She was young and naïve and didn't understand. Not yet.

"Rabastan said he was going to bid you goodnight," the fifteen-year-old said.

"He did."

"And? Was it … pleasant?"

Andromeda looked at the eager expression on her younger sister's innocent face, so unspoilt and young and untainted with cruelty. She looked so happy for her, unaware of Andromeda's true thoughts, unaware of the unfairness life could bring. Andromeda wished her the very best life with Lucius Malfoy.

Andromeda also knew that whatever she said, nothing would change, because she was engaged and everything was organised already, and Rabastan wouldn't be breaking it off with her in a hurry.

"Yes," she lied, "Very pleasant."

* * *

 _1/1/1970_

 _Judy,_

 _Happy New Year! Let's hope we can make it a good one._

 _Nothing's really happened - I haven't even spoken to my new fiancé yet - and I'm terribly_ _bored. I must have read that book you got me four times already._

 _Rabastan is finally leaving today, so maybe my family with stop nattering on about weddings and whatnot. How did Bella survive it? She has terrible patience, yet she went through all this? I guess her a Rodolphus are a match made in Heaven (or Hell). Honestly, this is_ so _tiring._

 _I'm still trying to teach Sirius the art of gossip, and he even brought eight-year-old Regulus along for the 'lesson'. I'm becoming a rather good teacher!_

 _...if only gossiping was a subject._

 _See you in three days,_

 _Andromeda._

* * *

Three days. Just three days and she could be out of this hellhole.

* * *

 **So, tell me what you think!**


	2. Claustrophobia

**Bit of a filler chapter, but I need to set the scene and whatnot. Please tell me if you have any ideas or advice. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter 2 - CLAUSTROPHOBIA**

Andromeda watched through the window at the hustle and bustle of the station: mothers kissing their children goodbye, fathers shaking the hands of the sons. Well, that was the pureblood families, all hopelessly stuffy and formal. Everyone else was hugging and talking and yelling, with younger children running around the platform, weaving between teary goodbyes and happy reunions of classmates.

Of course, it was only half as busy as it was at the beginning of the school year, because many students had stayed at school for Christmas, but it was still a squeeze on the small muggle platform.

She looked into her lap, at the emerald ring that sat like a little toad on her finger. It was big and bulky and ugly, but expensive, like any engagement ring in the rich pureblood houses. It rubbed against her finger uncomfortably. How she wished it wasn't there.

There was a sudden BANG as the door to the compartment swung on its hinges. A very tall girl with auburn hair and a wild smile on her face swept in, tugging her trunk behind her.

Andromeda grinned. "Judy."

"Andy!" Judy knew how much she hated that name, and grinned even wider at 'Andy's' put out expression.

"It's _just_ Andromeda."

"Yeah. Andromeda _Lestrange_."

The name sent an icy shiver crawling down her spine. "Not yet, I hope." She said.

Judith Crouch sat down opposite her, propping her feet up on another seat and raising a critical eyebrow. "He's not _that_ bad, is he?"

"I guess not." Andromeda lied.

They sat together, talking about Ralph and Susie (who had just started going out) when there was a knock and their compartment door opened once again.

Andromeda's breath caught. It was the Hufflepuff, Edward Tonks, who she had had a crush on for forever, and he was looking straight at her.

He had blue eyes, but they weren't icy like Rabastan's - no, they were soft, like the sky on a summer's day. He had sandy blond hair and a sharp jawline and a small smile that said _everything is okay._ He was just generally a comforting figure, standing in a relaxed stance in the doorway.

"Andromeda? You're meant to be at the prefects meeting."

In the rush of the engagement and the start of sixth year and _Ted bloody Tonks_ , prefect duties were easily forgotten, and Andromeda sighed, because she'd made a fool out of herself in front of _him_ by forgetting it. Merlin, of all people to come to the door.

Then she realised she was staring.

"Oh. Oh, yeah." she croaked out.

Judy stifled a laugh beside her.

Andromeda, blushing furiously and turning to glare at her snickering friend, followed behind Ted. He wasn't looking at her. He had hardly spoken to her, but her careful Black mask had easily fallen to reveal her flustered self. She twisted the ring furiously as she walked, careful not to look to closely at the boy in front of her (though it was very tempting).

She spent the whole prefect meeting alternating between staring at him and glaring at the new ring on her finger.

A ring that prevented her from doing anything more than staring.

It was after the prefects meeting, when she was doing her rounds of the train, that it happened.

"Black!" Said a haughty voice from behind her. She turned to see Antonin Dolohov, a Slytherin in seventh year. He spoke with a light foreign accent, smooth and almost as slimy as Rabastan's own voice. "How's your fiancé?"

"Fine."

"I spoke to him. He says you're a good one." Antonin was eyeing her up, gaze resting on her chest. He stepped forwards, closing the gap between them, until his breath tickled her face. "How do you fancy finding an empty compartment, just you and me? He wouldn't mind."

Andromeda took a step back. "How do you fancy getting the hell away from me?" She asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Dolohov didn't catch on. He went towards her again, leaning forwards until his lips hovered at her ear. "He told me I could, and the rest of us boys. He said you were fair game, as long as it wasn't public knowledge. Don't be scared, Andromeda."

His black eyes looked at her hungrily.

"I told you, Dolohov. Get away from me."

Antonin opened his mouth again, but a heavenly voice interrupted from behind Andromeda. "Didn't you hear what she said? Get away from her before I give you detention for the next month."

Dolohov stalked away, and Ted Tonks glared after him.

"That was foul." He said.

Andromeda shrugged helplessly. "I'm going to have to get used to it."

"It's awful that they think they can just take advantage of you. Your … fiancé told them they could … do that?"

"Yeah. He's not doing very well as a fiancé so far."

"Who is he?"

"Rabastan Lestrange."

Ted stared at her in horror, probably thinking of all the stories that people told about him. "You're engaged to _him_?"

"Yeah."

Ted stayed silent, but it was clear what he thought.

"Go on," Andromeda said, "You can say whatever you're thinking."

"He broke my arm when I was in second year, cracked my skull in fourth and slept with my girlfriend last year."

Andromeda scowled. "I can imagine."

Ted was silent for a moment. "Did he…"

"He tried."

He winced apologetically and gave her an awkward grin. "Well, I'm Ted. Ted Tonks."

"I know. I'm Andromeda Black."

"Uh, see you around, then. We're doing patrols together every week this year."

Andromeda smiled back, her day already sounding better. "See you around."

She pushed thoughts of Rabastan Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov out of her mind, thinking instead that Ted Tonks - _Ted Tonks -_ had spoken to her, smiled at her, protected her. Ted Tonks had said he'd 'see her around'.

Her heart was already lighter.

* * *

The feast was pleasant as always, gravy-soaked roast potatoes and perfectly cooked goose and a hundred other splendid treats.

But Andromeda just couldn't enjoy it this year. Somehow the only thing on her mind was her engagement and Rabastan giving the Slytherin boys 'permission' to … _have_ her until she graduated. The euphoria that had lightened her after the encounter with Ted had slowly melted away to the horrifying truth: she could never be with him. She could never even be seen to like him, or her family would somehow find out through their web of spies around the school.

She was trapped. Her whole life was a tiny box without an air supply. She was suffocating, unable to move out of her situation, unable to see what was going on. It was nightmare for anyone claustrophobic.

And no-one could help her this time.

Besides Judy, who Andromeda regarded to be her _best_ friend, there weren't many people who were particularly nice people to talk with in her year. I mean, there was Ted, but she would never be allowed to spend time with muggleborns. Most of the Slytherin students were either aspiring to follow the Dark Lord, or too scared to say they weren't, and she wanted nothing to do with that.

Of course, she had a Death Eater as a fiancé now, but that couldn't be helped.

And she wouldn't say she was necessarily introverted, she was just picky, and not very likeable.

Judy had flung herself into the seat across from Andromeda, and was chatting avidly about dragons or something similar to the first year boy beside her. _She_ had no problem with socialising, and was far too trusting for her own good. She was, unlike Andromeda, also allowed to socialise with whomever she liked, whether it be a muggleborn Hufflepuff or a blood traitor Gryffindor.

Just as she was about to leave (bored out of her mind watching Judy talk to a million other people), someone sat directly next to her.

"Hem hem?"

Andromeda repressed her urge to groan. Dolores Umbridge was beside her, one fat leg propped up by the other and a ghastly smile on her face.

Her pink cardigan made Andromeda's eyes itch. Her flowery perfume was overpoweringly sweet. Her simpering smile made her want to vomit.

"So, Andy, I heard that you are now engaged. Engaged!" She squealed loudly, drawing eyes from all across the table. "And to Rabastan Lestrange, of all people. He is awfully handsome and very kind. I do hope you enjoy your time with him. What's he like? Is he as muscular as he seems? Is he rich? Do you love him? Does he love you? Does he have a big-"

"Dolores?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

And that's why Andromeda didn't have many friends. Umbridge made a sound of disgust and flounced off, her ridiculous bow bouncing on her head as she walked.

Judy's attention had been caught. "Merlin, she's like a little frog! I half expect her tongue to come out of her mouth and snatch up the flies."

Andromeda snorted, amused as always by Judy's descriptions.

"Honestly, though," she said, "Can anyone talk about anything other than my engagement?"

"It's 'cause no-one thought you'd ever get a husband. You've never dated anyone!"

"Neither have you!"

Judy glared at her. "Yes I have! Remember Dave Jugson?"

"Yeah, as a joke."

"Arthur Weasley. That was for two whole months!"

"He never spoke to you because he was madly in love with Molly Prewett."

"Gideon Prewett."

"He pranked you."

"Fabian Prewett."

"I thought you only went out with one of them?"

"I don't know which one it was!"

"Exactly."

"Roy McIntyre, then!"

"You made him up!"

Judy huffed, rolled her eyes, stuck her tongue out at Andromeda, and started to talk to the first year again.

* * *

That night, despite more hours of endless banter between herself and Judy, despite fits of uncontrollable laughter, and despite a delicious treacle sponge with custard, Andromeda couldn't find it in her to look forward to the year. She kept a smile plastered on her face while her mind was spinning from the turmoil of her thoughts.

She twisted and turned, trying to be comfortable in her Slytherin green covers. She kept imagining Rabastan coming into the room. _At least let me accompany you to bed_

He had come back into that bedroom every night until he left, kissing her and feeling her and she had cried every morning because she didn't want that to be every night. She liked her solitude. She liked the silence. She certainly didn't like Rabastan's hands on her skin.

It would surely plague her every night, even if he was far away.

In short, she was doomed. 1970 was not looking good so far.

And patrols with Ted Tonks? Forget it. All she could do was imagine, and that would only make it worse.

Andromeda had already been attacked by various gossips about her betrothal, and with every word, her heart sunk further into the pit of despair.

She'd been forced into this situation, placed into a box and given to Rabastan with no say in the matter. She'd been sold off, or given away, and her parents didn't even care.

Didn't care that she was with a vile man who looked down on her with his fake spectacles. Didn't care that she had no choice, or that she couldn't change it, or that she liked someone else.

All her life, she had imagined the massive birthday parties were for her. To celebrate her birth, and that the boys that her mother invited were as _friends_. In what world did a four-year-old's birthday become a suitable place to look for said four-year-old's future husband?

Nothing was about her. It was about the position of her family, the respect they gained for every move. Her life was another piece on the chessboard to raise the reputation of the Black family. She was a pawn to be taken for the greater good of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

And she was still in the box, ramming into the sides, screaming for help, losing air, her head becoming duller until she couldn't think of any decent escape plans. Her nails raked the sides, clutching for even a whisper of a chance that she could escape and finally be free.

She was desperate. Oh, so desperate to finally escape, because she'd lived in that box her whole life. It was the box that all women of the Black family were sentenced to. And the sentence was for eternity.

Perhaps she could secretly kill Rabastan once they were married. Then she'd be a widow, and it wouldn't be respectful to marry again for another few years. Another few golden years of freedom.

Maybe she could elope. With anyone. _Anyone._ Okay, maybe not Antonin Dolohov, but if she was patrolling with Ted…

She couldn't think like that. She couldn't give herself any hope, because that little flame of a future would be snuffed out the moment she opened her eyes to the real world again. Fire needs oxygen, and she was running out. Fire needs heat, and her world was freezing. Fire needs fuel, and she had none left.

Her possibilities were closing up fast, and the truth was suffocating her.

She would just have to accept it, no matter how painful it was.

* * *

 _My dearest Andromeda,_

 _I hope you are well, and that school isn't too strenuous for you._

 _I trust you received my message? If not, I just wanted to express that you can associate with other men at school if you so wanted, as long as you are aware that your heart does belong to me overall and that you mustn't lead them on so that they begin thinking you are theirs forever. I also demand that your purity remains intact until our wedding night, for the sake of tradition and respect._

 _Your parents will most likely not agree to this freedom that I am allowing you, so do keep it discreet._

 _My employer (you know of him already) was wondering whether you wish to join us? I have informed him of your excellent results in OWLs, and he has said he would be honoured if you joined your sister Bellatrix in the ranks._

 _I have no further news for now, but please bear in mind what I have said._

 _Your loyal betrothed,_

 _Rabastan Lestrange_

Andromeda made a face. "He sent me a letter." She spat.

Tobias Lloyd (who she regarded as a semi-friend) frowned from beside her. "Isn't that what fiancés are meant to do?"

"Not if it's this formal. Honestly, you'd think he was speaking to the Queen!"

"So he respects you."

"He's writing as if I'm stupid."

"So he doesn't know you well enough."

She just snorted, and was about to reply when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Professor Slughorn's walrus-like mustache loomed behind her, bristling as he spoke.

"Miss Black! I heard all about your engagement, of course…"

She didn't listen, just pulling up that smile again to hide her anger. Wouldn't anyone just _stop talking about it?_

She was choking from the weight of a thousand assumptions and expectations.

* * *

 _She was being squeezed from all sides, stuck in a dark passageway. The walls were pressing in, pushing at her with unseen hands and whispered cruelties, herding her to one end of the corridor. Looking forwards, where she was headed, she saw a mass of swirling darkness, pulsing with Dark energy._

 _She looked behind, where there was a crack of the purest light, the soft ring of laughter, and she struggled towards it, but she felt herself being tugged harder back to the darkness, the hands now clutching at her possessively._

 _The walls closed tighter, until they were tight on each side. In the direction of the Light, they squeezed in until she wouldn't be able to even fit down there._

 _Her head was rocking with some sort of terrible weight, twisted to either side. The invisible hands were running up and down her body, her bare skin. Her chest felt like it would explode after only a moment more of this agony._

 _Agony. Searing pain that ran in fiery bursts throughout her body, raging through her and leaving nothing behind. It emptied her out, starting from the inside until it sparked out at the tips of her fingers and toes. The whole time she was writhing in pain, she was constantly aware of the darkness that she was rapidly approaching. It was watching her._

 _And what did that terrible pain leave in its place? Emptiness. Andromeda felt empty, like her insides had been scooped out and thrown away, leaving just her body._

 _She was vaguely aware of the hands which were still skimming over her skin, a pair of eyes from the darkness looking at her hungrily. A voice whispered in her ear._ My beautiful Andromeda, _it said._ You are mine.

 _And the last thing she saw before being pulled into the suffocating darkness was that crack of light, closing until only a mere, shining scar remained to light the grey of the tunnel._


	3. Attack

**Well, hello. I'm a bit late in updating, but here is the chapter. A bit of action! Tell me whether it's okay (I'm not too sure about the end).**

 **.**

She had gone through the day without even an inkling of her usual joy. Every second seemed to drag on her bones, each step seemed to take her further and further down a deep tunnel of despair. Even in the greatest of spaces, she felt walls pressing in on each side. In the busiest of rooms, she felt completely alone.

She had also realised that Judy was a very friendly person. Andromeda found herself friendless in the corner while Judy chatted away to everyone and no-one. It had been like this for years, but why was it itching at her now? Why was it suddenly so important and terrible?

Andromeda just needed something to distract her, to tell her beautiful lies. _Everything will be alright._ That was a good one. Her pillars were crumbling underneath her; she needed someone to hold her up.

Her sisters certainly wouldn't be any help. Narcissa was on the path to engagement to Lucius Malfoy, and spent all her time cooing over him. Bellatrix sent her letters, each one descending further into madness, speaking of ' _a flame that will never die',_ and ' _the incoming storm'._ She raved about the Dark Lord and his growing might, immeasurable power and immortality. Was she going mad? Was the whole family going mad?

Andromeda wandered down the corridor after Transfiguration, trying to fight away the pressing walls of her little Black box. She'd parted ways with Judy, but felt no more alone than she had before. Her head was heavy on her shoulders, aching with random facts that she needed to remember, spinning with the burden of trying to translate Bella's novel-length letters.

The _clack, clack, clack_ of her shoes echoed down the empty wing, bouncing off walls like a ping pong ball. The way was lit with fiery braziers, but because nearly everyone was in lessons (Andromeda had a free period), they were slowly snuffing out, one by one.

Soon enough, the corridor was left in an eerie half-light from the dulled sunshine that filtered through the windows.

 _Clack, clack, clack._

Another two people had asked about her engagement in the five hours since breakfast. She couldn't get away from it, still haunted by Rabastan's shadow even in the safety of the school. Now she thought about it, she felt him now, strutting beside her with a cool smile twisting his mouth. _Hello, Andromeda._ His voice was still smooth, each syllable slipping into the next, the words dipping a little at the end. The way he said her name made her skin crawl, her ears burn.

 _Clack, clack, clack._

 _He isn't there_ , she tried to tell herself. _He's in France with his father._

But when she saw a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, she looked out for those dead irises, the glint of his spectacles. When she heard the tiniest whisper, she imagined his voice. _My beautiful Andromeda,_ he'd croon, _we don't have to wait for the wedding. Why not become better acquainted now?_

 _Clack, clack, clack._

Why couldn't she escape? Why couldn't she be away from all that at Hogwarts? It was meant to be different here. She was meant to be safe. _Safe._ She could feel his hands clasped around her waist, pulling her into him. He was a weight beside her, a cold spectre, a ghost.

 _Clack, clack, clack, click._

A higher noise, sharper. She faltered, paused and looked around, then continued a little way.

 _Clack, clack, clack, click._

 _Clack, click._

 _Clack, clack, click._

Her footsteps were shadowed. Whenever she walked, a different sound lingered behind her own step. The sharp sound of a stiletto heel echoing off the flagstones rather than the soft patter of her own practical brogues.

"Who's there?"

Her voice cut through the cold silence.

"Show yourself!" She demanded.

All was still. You could've heard a pin drop in the seconds that followed. A string of tension wrapped tight around the area.

Andromeda turned back around, still on high alert.

" _Stupefy!"_

She dodged the spell just in time, leaping to the side but hitting her head on the wall hard.

Her head spinning, she turned to see two figures in Slytherin robes with their hoods pulled up blocking either end of the corridor.

"Go away," she said, knowing as she did so how pathetic it sounded.

The figure to her right, who was rather more short and round than the other, gave a little laugh. A very familiar, very fake laugh.

"But you, Andromeda Black, have been a _very_ naughty girl."

The voice was high and sickly. So, _so_ familiar. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

The other figure spoke now, clearly male with hint of an accent, "You shouldn't have refused me, Black."

The girl gave another tinkling laugh, "You really hurt my boyfriend. And you can't be so rude to me, Andy. Honestly, it's not ladylike. Your friend called me a frog!" she said, a hint of anger lacing her simpering voice.

Andromeda sighed. Dolores Umbridge. Who else?

She turned back to the boy, thinking of any recent rejections. Of course. Antonin Dolohov. Him and his pathetic new girlfriend were annoyed at her for something as insignificant as that? What was wrong with them?

Wait, they were going out? Ew. No way did _that_ work in Andromeda's mind.

Dolohov snarled, "And who came to save you, Black? Ted Tonks. A pathetic mudblood. You're nothing but a dirty blood traitor!"

With that final yell, Dolohov sent another spell at her, non-verbal this time (it was probably an attempt to surprise her), but Andromeda shielded herself and sent a spell right back. The floor under his feet gave way with a satisfying _crack_ and he stumbled.

Spinning around, she did the same to Umbridge, who had the sense to leap aside, casting a cushioning charm as she did so and landing safely on her feet.

With a sharp jab of her unusually stubby wand, Umbridge sent a _diffindo_ towards Andromeda, which skimmed her cheek, drawing a line of blood against her pale skin.

Andromeda sent a spell back in retaliation, but Dolores dodged again, laughing in that pathetically sickly way.

Another spell. Burning heat. A curse sent straight back. Another hex, deftly dodged. The strongest shield she could manage. A shuffle from behind her. She turned…

Then ringing.

Laughter, jackal-like and harsh.

Cold. Cold cold cold. Chilling her to the bone. Ripping through her body.

Screaming. Someone was screaming. Or was that her? Screaming, screaming, screaming. Loud. Ever so loud. Wouldn't it just _stop?_

Andromeda was faintly aware that she was on the floor, that her throat was being filed with sandpaper, that her body was aching, aching, aching.

It came all at once: a dull pain at the back of her head where she'd hit the floor; the icy cold stripped away to reveal the agony of some sort of curse. Her stomach was on fire, burning with all Dolohov's rage when the spell had hit. Her head was throbbing, pound, pound, pound, as if someone was knocking at a door. Her veins were full of acid, her chest holding a swarm of bees, her head… Oh, her head. She could feel a thick liquid dripping across her forehead, a lightness that shouldn't be there. And her eyes were rolling, and her ears were ringing, and her mouth was screaming, screaming, screaming.

She was writhing around, twisting on the cold ground, trying to shake off the torture. She kicked and punched at the floor and at the thin air, finally curling in on herself when she realised there was nothing she could do.

The screams ceased. The pain kept rolling on, but she had stopped screaming, the sounds turning into wracking sobs that shook her whole body. She wept and wept and wept, and finally - _finally -_ gave up.

* * *

Panic. Panic panic panic.

Where was she? What happened? Who - why - when - what - where? Why was she hurting so much?

Calm. Calm, Andromeda. Be calm. Work it out.

Cracking her eyes open, she observed her surroundings. The world was a kaleidoscope. The colours twirled around each other, blurring into patterns before flowing together again, spinning in her vision. Colours? No, wait. She found it hard to separate each shade from the next, but strained her eyes and _saw_ : white, green, blue. Red? Red red red. Lots of red. Red was down. White was up. Green was either side. Red white green.

She tried to strain her ears, but there was a consistent ringing hovering within them that she couldn't will away. It buzzed, the sound dipping and diving as she twitched her head, but never ceased. Like a bee zipping around her head in drunk circles.

She tasted something metallic, something familiar… blood. She tasted only blood. It rested on the tip of her tongue. It tickled. Was that the red? Was that the red that covered her body?

Could she smell? It seemed so, because drifting up her nose was the smell of disinfectant and bandages and blood. Ah, a hospital. St Mungo's? The Hospital Wing? That meant she was injured.

Next, Andromeda tried to feel. She was wary, because she knew she was hurt in some way, so she only let herself sense things very tentatively.

Soft. Something soft, and she could see a little of it - was it white? More white. Yes, white, white and soft. A duvet. Something was hard underneath her, but a little springy, and Andromeda thought back to the days that she and Bella would bounce on their beds while Narcissa turned her nose up. A bed. That was good. That meant sleep and rest and perhaps healing. A bed. She thought of another bed. Was Rabastan here? She was sure she'd know if he was, and she couldn't hear his slimy voice (she couldn't hear anything) and she couldn't see his spectacles (she couldn't see anything), so she told himself that he couldn't be here, then.

Oh! She felt something else. A … liquid? A thick liquid? That must be the blood. Now, Andromeda had nothing against blood, but she wasn't reassured by the feel and taste of it. That _definitely_ meant she was injured.

As she lay there, still testing each sense over and over again, everything slowly, _very_ slowly, became clear.

She could see now. Green curtains and a white bed and blood (lots of blood).

She could hear a little, mostly unrecognisable chatter from beyond the curtains.

Hospital Wing, certainly. The high ceilings said it all. Which meant a lot less chance of a _serious_ injury. Whatever happened, it wasn't bad enough for St. Mungo's.

And memories! In a frenzied rush, they flooded into her thoughts, spilling into her mind. Oh. _Oh._

Well, that certainly explained the Hospital Wing and the blood.

She wasn't happy. She wasn't happy at all, because Dolores Umbridge, the little toad, had attacked her, with _Antonin Dolohov_ , of all people. Honestly, she would've thought Dolohov would have higher standards than _Umbridge_.

And what reason did they have? That she had laughed at a funny comment, even if it was rude? That she had a silly little crush on a muggleborn?

She was a _Black_. She could do whatever she liked, and it was everyone else who were disgraced.

That's what her mother had told her anyway.

Could Andromeda trust her own mother's word any more? All her life she had followed blindly along, guided by the every word of her ancestors.

What did they know? They knew the most effective way to beat a child, to kill a muggle, to manage a massacre. They were experts of lies and secrecy and Dark magic. Was that the kind of thing Andromeda wanted to listen to, to follow, to fall into?

No, she realised. No, it really wasn't. And now, in her bedridden state, after a while of contemplation, she saw what she had always looked away from: the truth. The truth that the Blacks weren't good people.

Because there was nothing wrong with Ted Tonks. He was polite and kind (and cute). A lot more so than Rabastan Lestrange, in all three attributes. And she knew - she had always known - that there were an awful lot of things that were wrong with Rabastan. He was messed up in a hundred ways. There was no denying that.

"You're awake!" Came a voice.

Ugh. Too loud.

"Yes," Andromeda croaked, "I'm alive, Judy. No need to shout."

Judy sat down on the bed, grinning down at her.

"I am so proud. I never thought I'd see the day - you actually started a fight!"

"What? I -"

"Don't you dare deny it. McGonagall found you in the corridor with some other students, and they said you started it. She looked at your wand and did that thing that shows the past spells, and it came up with a couple Dark curses. Those are forbidden. Like, really forbidden. Illegal forbidden. You're lucky you were unconscious, 'cause now she's cooled down a bit, but _Merlin_ is she angry."

"I didn't, Judy. They attacked me. I never used any Dark curses, either."

"All the evidence is against you, Andy." Judy was still grinning.

"But what about their wands? Did she look at their wands?"

"Dunno. Probably, but they claimed everything was self-defense."

"They're lying!"

Judy turned at the sound of a sharp voice at the doorway of the hospital wing.

McGonagall.

"Better think of a pretty good excuse, Andy." And she left Andromeda to speak to McGonagall alone.

The green curtains parted, revealing the Professor, an unreadable look on her face. "Oh, good. You're awake."

Andromeda didn't say anything, unsure of what she should start with. The classic 'it wasn't me', or perhaps the 'what in Merlin's name are you even talking about'?

She didn't have time to decide.

"Andromeda, why are you always involved when there are problems?"

Well, a good a start as any, Andromeda thought. It was true. She could recall hundreds of scenarios in which she had indirectly caused commotions, and it was easy to remember various scenes of ruckus blooming around her.

She didn't express this, because that was a very good way to end up spilling millions of events which would earn her years of punishments. "What on earth do you mean?"

"Well, there was the bowtruckle revolution and the pixie escape and that issue with the textbooks in your Transfiguration class. Not to mention the incident with your sister's hair."

"That was her fault. Bellatrix just wanted attention. And the rest of them weren't me."

Silence. One raised eyebrow.

"Okay, the bowtruckle thing was a little bit my fault. And the pixie attack. And yes, I charmed the textbooks. It was funny, Professor. You even laughed!"

"That is not the matter we are discussing. I found you in the corridor and heard that you'd attacked Miss Umbridge and Mr Dolohov. Your wand had just used a Dark curse."

"I used no Dark curses, Professor. And they must be lying, because they attacked me. Did you look at their wands? They used some pretty terrible magic, Professor."

"They claim it was self-defence, but each of them will receive a great many detentions for the evidence we've found that they used Dark curses. I will ask you now, Andromeda: did you use Dark magic?"

"No. Surely the cruciatus curse can't be called self-defense?"

"There was no evidence of any unforgivables. I think you must be exaggerating."

"It certainly felt like it!"

"And how would you know how that felt?"

Andromeda stayed silent. She knew how it felt perfectly well. She wasn't going to forget in a hurry.

McGonagall sighed, pursing her lips. "Well, there is no other way to tell who is telling the truth, so you will have the same punishment as the other two. As for the 'who started it' argument, I am afraid it is two against one. Detention today and tomorrow evening for that. You will also have detentions every Friday evening for the rest of the term along with Miss Umbridge and Mr Dolohov. And if you did use Dark magic, I warn you that if you do so again, you will be expelled. No fighting in the corridors either."

And the Scottish deputy-head stalked off.

Andromeda felt branded. As much as McGonagall had tried to seem unbiased, it was easy to pry open her mask. The name of Black had sentenced her to a life of blame and punishment.

Yes, it was a fact. 1970 was cursed.


	4. Tattered Marionette

**Sorry this took a little while - firstly, CHRISTMAS! Also, I wrote part of chapter 5 instead of this by accident (so a super fast update next time), and lastly, my cat keeps sitting on the keyboard, so it's a little hard to type. Here we go, then! Hope you all had great Christmases if you celebrate it.**

 **TATTERED MARIONETTE**

Andromeda had never served detention before.

She'd been let out the Hospital Wing that evening (rather reluctantly, on Madam Pomfrey's part) in order to go to _detention_.

The entire notion was alien to her. Detention meant getting into trouble, and trouble (in the words of her mother) was a sin.

 _Andromeda walked downstairs, remembering to straighten her back and walk sensibly with small steps, hands folded neatly in front of her. She smoothed out her favourite blue robes that had been made for her birthday, and pushed the door open (though not before knocking quietly, of course)._

 _Inside, her mother leant against the mantelpiece, and her father sat in his armchair, both of them the entire picture of elegance. Mother raised an eyebrow expectantly._

 _Andromeda bowed her head a little, "Mother, Father. You called me?"_

 _Her father looked up from his newspaper, neat little beard bristling as he spoke, "Andromeda, I wish to speak with you concerning your behaviour when you attend Hogwarts."_

" _Yes, Father."_

 _His dark eyes glinted, "We are a noble family. Every member of this house has spent their lives acting respectable, strong, superior. That is who we are. When you arrive at Hogwarts, you are in the public eye. You can - and will - be observed. People will watch you. People will either respect you or fear you. But your every action will have a judgement. Do you understand?"_

" _Yes, Father."_

" _We expect only the best of you, daughter. That means top grades and sensible behaviour befitting of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Any slips will have consequences. Now what have I told you?" He snapped the question at the end, looking at her expectantly._

" _I cannot get into trouble. I must work very hard."_

" _You cannot get_ caught _in trouble, and you must be_ the best _. There will be Mudbloods in your classes. You just show them the might of our family. You must show them how powerful their superiors are. If they require further …_ teaching … _well, some things are necessary as long as you do not get caught. Just remember, my daughter: reputation is everything."_

" _Yes, Father. I understand."_

" _Good girl. Now hurry along and start looking in your textbooks. We don't want you to be behind, do we?"_

 _She did, obeying his every word, as usual, wary of the consequences. At the age of eleven, only once had she seen his anger, felt his anger … and she did not want that to ever happen again._

And now she stood before McGonagall's office, where detention awaited. She had heard that a letter was sent home with every detention a child was given, and she prayed it was not true.

But what was the point? Her parents would find out anyway, through her mother's web of gossip or her father's contacts who had children in the school. Her every movement was reported, once again reminding Andromeda of the box that she still sat within.

There was no use avoiding it. That would make her late, and tardiness was (yet again, in the words of Druella Black) unforgivably rude.

With a deep breath, she knocked, and upon a command, walked in.

Professor McGonagall looked up from her desk looking as put-together as ever. "Miss Black. You're perfectly on time. Write me four feet on why fighting in the corridors isn't appropriate."

The Gryffindor head of house passed Andromeda a piece of parchment, and returned to her own marking.

Well, this wasn't so bad, she thought. She had been expecting something harsher. Her father wasn't afraid to lock her in the cellar for a day or two just for small accidents, and her mother could make her life hell by putting beetles in her food or itching powder in her bed sheets or something of the sort. For fighting, Andromeda would expect nothing less than a painful curse.

Four feet wasn't even that long, even if it was about something dull.

Andromeda put down her anxiety and started to write.

* * *

"How was it?" Judy asked as Andromeda walked into the common room. It was still early (she was glad she was a fast writer), so students lounged in chairs all around.

"Alright," she said, throwing herself (gracefully, as always) onto a green sofa.

The Slytherin common room wasn't exactly relaxing. The sofas and chairs may be soft and comfortable, but the eerie green light from the lake glowed like the killing curse and the vibe was unsettling. A group of older students huddled in the corner with dark gleams in their eyes. A third year sent dangerous hexes towards a cowering first year. Most of the books on the bookshelf had been smuggled in and covered less than pleasant topics. No-one in here was inherently _evil_ , but when some of the Darker students gathered _together_ , a chill seemed to settle over everyone - they became a malicious force, each trying to outdo the rest until someone got hurt. The whispered conversation that passed from person to person was full of references to an oncoming storm, a pulsing darkness.

The Dark Lord.

He was something new, something everyone thought about but no-one spoke about. Something you either hated or worshipped. Nothing between. He was extremes, demonstrating pureblood supremacy around the globe, killing muggles without a second thought.

She dare not say, but Andromeda was part of the group that hated him.

Her family raved about his power, about the 'Cause', about their precious Dark Lord who was bringing a revolution to wizarding politics. Bellatrix had joined the ranks along with her precious husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. Who had roped in his brother, Rabastan.

Andromeda had seen the mark on his arm, a mark of something very, very wrong. A mark that made her skin crawl.

Everyone around her craved his power, but she shied from it, sensing something _evil._

It was when they joined. Bella, the Lestranges … when they had joined the Dark Lord, they had changed, their smiles turning into sneers, turning into smirks, turning into something mad. Their eyes turning from bright to dim before blinking out as if the power had been cut off. Or maybe they ran off a new power. A Dark power.

Judy was peering at her again, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," Andromeda said, her voice terse. "I need to find my sister."

* * *

Narcissa was running a comb through her hair in her dormitory, humming something to herself.

"Hello, Cissy."

She looked up, blue eyes widening a little, then crinkling as she smiled, "Drommie."

"Not you too! It's just Andromeda."

"But that's far too long! How am I to call you in any efficient way if you insist on your full name?"

Andromeda found the comfortable smile melt off her face, "I need to speak to you. Seriously."

Narcissa understood. Despite being the youngest, Cissy always understood family matters. She may not be the most academic of the Black sisters but she was certainly the wisest. "It's not about that thing with Dolohov, is it? I wondered whether they knew. I left it out of my letter, if you're going to ask. I thought you might want to say it yourself."

"Or not at all."

"You know there's no point," Narcissa said, "They'll only find it out a different way, and then they'll be even angrier you didn't tell them."

She had said just what Andromeda hadn't wanted to think about. "Yes. Yes, I thought so too."

"So…"

"I don't know how to say it." She admitted.

"Well," Cissy said, "Just state the facts. Drop in some flattery and a lot of apologies. Don't ramble, just say the story - the true story."

"But everyone else is going to tell them a hundred different terrible lies. I'm the only one who _knows_ the truth apart from Umbridge and Dolohov."

Narcissa frowned, "Who's Umbridge?"

"A half blood in my year. Thinks she's everything, but her father's a muggl- a _mudblood-"_ Andromeda had concluded never to use that word after a lengthy discussion with a muggleborn in her class, but with family it was necessary "-caretaker at the Ministry and I'm pretty sure her's brother's a squib. Not that she'll admit any of that - she thinks she's Dolohov's girlfriend, but it's clear he's using her to get to me, and she _says_ her dad works as an important member of the Wizengamot."

"Sounds simply disgraceful. Who does she think she is?" Narcissa spat, "Attacking her superiors, pretending she's worthy of our attention, _lying_ to gain fame. Sounds like the sort of creature that would come of a marriage like that."

"Hmmm."

There was a pause before Narcissa spoke again, timidly this time. "What if … what if Mother doesn't believe you?"

Just thinking about anything along those lines made the room feel a few degrees colder.

Andromeda, shivering, spoke in the same low tone as her sister, "Mother? No, it's Father I'm worried about."

"Will he … will he curse you again?"

There was a silence, in which Andromeda remembered the first time she'd seen her father in a rage. She remembered his face: bright red, teeth bared in a snarl, spittle flying as he spat obscenities. She remembered the pain of that curse he had used. The Cruciatus Curse. An Unforgivable. The three sisters had never spoken of it, and Andromeda didn't dare say a word to anyone else, even Judy. Since then, Cygnus Black had grown angry several more times, but only very rarely did he use that curse.

The memory made her bones quiver.

She guessed the curse that Dolohov had used on her when he and Umbridge attacked may have been the Cruciatus, but he clearly hadn't had much practice, because when Cygnus Black did it, the pain was tenfold.

She let herself think he wouldn't. Let herself think he'd believe her without a doubt. "He won't."

"And … what about Rabastan?"

Her head spun, as if to say, _you're stuffed,_ but she shook it with as much confidence as she could muster.

"No. No, he _will_ believe me. In fact, he'll probably congratulate me if I tell him who Umbridge is. And I'll … I'll state very clearly that I was attacked. _I_ wasn't the one to start it."

Besides, she couldn't spend the rest of her life doing everything on the basis of what her fiancé wanted. Couldn't let herself be controlled. She was stronger than that.

Wasn't she?

* * *

Yet again, her dreams took her to a dark place.

 _Chains. Cold, hard metal dug into her skin. They wrapped around her body, enclosing her into their grasp, pulling her into each and every direction. The links were rough, drawing blood from where they chafed against her, but she didn't feel the pain. The only thing she felt was a peculiar coldness as the blood ran rivers down her body._

 _Everything was cold._

 _The ends of the chains led far away, shrouded in darkness, and when she shook them, the rattling echoed again and again and again. She must be in some sort of chamber._

 _Already, that terrible claustrophobia shook her, and her breaths became fast and the walls - wherever they were - seemed far too close._

 _Andromeda stared into the darkness. Something inside her stirred as the darkness stared back._

 _Wailing as she wasted away for what seemed like hours._

 _Crying as she wondered whether it would ever end._

 _Screaming as the floor fell away, and the only thing holding her up were the chains._

 _They held her, now tighter against her skin, ripping layers off her body. She was suspended, and as the blood dripped, she couldn't hear the drops hit the bottom._

 _Andromeda was gasping for air now, sobs choking in her throat, that cold blood still draining out of her and coating her skin._

 _The Darkness was still observing her, and she glared at it, but as more time passed her defiance melted._

 _Then suddenly, she was out of her body, and years seemed to be passing in moments._

 _She watched her hair go limp._

 _She watched her skin sink into her bones._

 _She watched her eyes go dull._

 _She watched as there was no blood left to spill._

 _She watched as she gave up._

 _The chains were strings, coming from high above her. She hadn't eaten or drunk, and she couldn't breathe, but she was alive, in a way. No blood ran through her veins. No breath passed through her lips. Her body was wooden, its shape simple, and her eyes were made of glass. Her painted face had rosy cheeks but her mouth was in a childish pout. Her hair was coloured string, tied with a green bow, and her clothes were handmade - a little girl's pale green frock and drawn-on black shoes._

 _A doll. An abandoned puppet hanging from its strings._

 _Andromeda felt herself - not her body, not the one in the chains, but her mind, still watching - be pulled backwards, further away from the tattered marionette._

 _As she spun into the gloom, she saw a shape emerge around the doll. It was hanging in a sort of bell jar, and the Darkness was indeed watching. The Darkness had a face._

 _Rabastan Lestrange sat on a stool, a marionette's strings in his hands. He smirked as he made it hang limp. He laughed as he made it dance. He started to giggle hysterically as he made it smash against the walls of its prison, and Andromeda watched as she - the doll - sobbed helplessly, clawing at the glass. Unable to control her own body. Unable to escape. Sentenced to the life of a puppet._


	5. A Malicious Invitation

**Look, I promise next chapter will have more Tedromeda. Thank you to all the lovely reviewers!**

 **A MALICIOUS INVITATION - Three Letters**

Throughout the next few days, Andromeda found her eyes drawn to the shadows, her feet pointed nervously away from them. She found herself jumping at the tiniest of sounds and taking her wand out at the least suspicious of looks. She glared icily at anyone who even alluded to the attack. Taking the lesser-known corridors ensured that she could avoid Dolohov and his friends. Waking early and sleeping late meant she didn't have to meet Umbridge in the dormitory.

The dream had shaken her more than she liked to admit.

Paranoia. That was the name for it, she knew. As much as she wanted to deny it, Andromeda was terrified of being attacked again. Terrified of being blamed. Was she overreacting? Was she making a mountain out of a molehill? No, she thought. Not with what awaited her at home.

Word had surely found its way to her parents by now, and she did not want them any angrier than they surely were. They expected perfect behaviour, and usually it was praise that they spoke. But now that she'd been put in detention … well, her perfect record was ruined and her father would not be happy. She shuddered to imagine his reaction.

Maybe Rabastan knew. Would he care?

 _Yes._

Judy frowned from her seat beside Andromeda in charms. "Hey, you okay?"

Waking out of her anxious reverie, she blinked twice, "Me? Yeah. Never better."

Judy gave her a smile, almost making Andromeda think back. Back to when smiles were easy and laughs were smooth. But now her betrothal had shattered that blissful image. Now her world was just father's disproving face, attackers lurking in the shadows, and a pair of spectacles glinting from the end of Rabastan's nose.

Her fears were growing to terrifying sizes, and Andromeda couldn't help but feel herself become swallowed in their shadows.

* * *

It was breakfast, five days after the attack. Andromeda sat across from Judy as usual, glancing around the Great Hall. She was ridiculously early, so the tables were peppered with only a handful of the most eager students (most of which were in Ravenclaw). Judy looked at her.

"Look, Drommie. We need to talk."

Andromeda started buttering her toast, "Do we?" she asked.

"Yes! You've been … _weird_ all week. Ever since … you know. The attack."

"Oh. Oh, right."

Andromeda pushed around the food on her plate.

"And?" Judy demanded.

"And what?"

"Why?"

She found herself suddenly defensive, "Why should I tell you? It's none of your business!"

"I know you don't mean that."

"Sorry. It's just … in the holidays, you know about the engagement and all. It's … getting to me. Just the stress, the fact that my fiancé's … Rabastan, and … everything's happening. Am I overreacting? I look back and it's nothing compared to what people are going through _out there_. Yet I'm freaking out about something so small."

Judy frowned. She had that hard look in her eyes - that unbreakable determination - that I had missed so much. "No. You are completely entitled to be as mad as you like."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. You don't realise it, but you're angry because the world has messed you up. Your family are stuffy posh preening peacocks, your fiancé's a creep who you don't like in the slightest, and you've been blamed for something you didn't do which means the peacocks and the creep are going to be mad at you. You have every right to be angry. Just tell me next time, okay?"

Andromeda smiled. For the first time for the past two or three weeks, she let herself wonder if maybe, just maybe, things could be like they used to be. "Alright."

The next few moments were blissful, until the post came.

 _My dearest Andromeda,_

 _Word has reached me of the most recent events at Hogwarts, and I was incredibly disappointed when I heard of your little spat with Dolohov. He is a valuable friend of mine and a devoted follower of our great leader. It would not do to have you on his bad side. In fact, I hoped you could be friends. I cannot express my shock that you had initiated a fight with him. Obviously you are not as wise as I had previously thought. This incident has embarrassed me greatly, as I had told all of my acquaintances how beautiful and proper you are before this nasty mess happened._

 _Your mother, as always, is nattering on about our wedding, which will take place the day after your graduation, in one and a half year's time. I am sure you are looking forward to it as much as I am. Gladness fills my heart when I think of our future together._

 _Please refrain from embarrassing me further. I expect you to be more obedient when you become my wife._

 _Your love,_

 _Rabastan._

How silly she had been to assume that the world might forgive her. As always, there was something - someone - there to tear her moment of bliss. _Obedience._ Was that all a woman was good for? Andromeda thought of his hands on her thighs, his lips on her neck, his body against hers … if that was what awaited her, did she honestly have the will to live through it all? Have the will to remain obedient?

And she had _embarras_ sed him. He was _ashamed._ Could he not be happy with what he had, rather than requesting that she become a dog to be his pet? Next would be a collar around her neck with an engraved name tag:

 _Andromeda._

 _Belongs to Rabastan Lestrange. Do not approach: may bite._

She almost laughed bitterly, imagining the image and not finding it too unbelievable.

But she didn't. She didn't laugh or cry. She didn't speak up. This was life. She had grown up knowing she would be married off, and she knew all other pureblood girls would receive the same treatment. Who was she to complain when hundreds of others carried the same burdens?

With a sigh, she opened her next letter, the second of three.

 _Our daughter,_

 _We have received news of your recent detention and the events that caused it. Neither of us expected you to do anything like this, as you have always been calm and courteous in the past, and it's safe to say that we are incredibly shocked. What sort of lapse in thought caused such a thing to take place? When you come home at the end of term, this will be discussed further._

 _We just want our daughter back._

 _Your loving - yet very confused - parents,_

 _Cygnus and Druella Black._

Another letter speaking of disappointment. That was it? They didn't care that she had been hurt, just of how it would affect them and their social standing.

Andromeda didn't know when she had become so bitter, but right now she wished she had any other family. This sudden surge of reproach towards her kin had come upon her like a wave, a sickness that had taken hold of her and hadn't let go. He found herself questioning her own father, thinking herself above her mother. She was sure if discovered, she would be punished severely for thinking such awful things, things that went against the very nature of her family.

She was scared. She didn't want her mind to be turned over like this. She didn't want to be any different from her noble ancestors.

But here she was. Bitter about the life she had never before complained about.

She had almost forgotten the third letter, and she opened it with a sigh, having had quite enough scoldings.

 _Andromeda,_

 _His power burns inside me, my sister. You will have to see some day - the beauty He weaves with the twitch of a wand, the destruction He wreaks upon this earth. And she needs it. The Earth needs it, because she is sick. In the castle, perhaps you can't see her properly, but she needs Him. He is the doctor this world has been waiting for, the saviour of all that is pure. He will pick the mudbloods from our holy ground like weeds, allowing us flowers to bloom. We are his sheep, and he is the shepherd, leading us to a greater future where we will rule._

 _And you will join. You can join Him, join us as we strive towards that future. That fire can be in your heart too. I hope we can work together, as we used to play together as children. This will happen soon, I guarantee - consider this an invitation._

 _Remember my words. Think of His words._

 _Your sister,_

 _Bellatrix._

She had been receiving letters like this for a week now, reading as her sister spiralled further into madness. Andromeda knew of who she talked of, who she worshipped like a god, and she wanted no part of it.

Andromeda wanted no part of killing children, of burning houses down. She didn't see the appeal in death.

Bella had always strove for power. Even as a child she had spoken of her need to speak out, her need to physically _do_ something to get rid of those 'mudbloods'. Never had Andromeda imagined this. Bellatrix sat at the table and ranted about the Dark Lord. She laughed when she saw reports about him murdering innocent people. She yelled of her allegiance to anyone who would listen, even if would get her killed.

The older sister was too proud to back down from a war. Too cruel to spare a minute to mourn. Too passionate to stop and think. Yes, she needed to think. Think and back out before it became too much, before her eyes darkened any more than they had already with wild malice. She needed to think about what she was doing, needed to see that it wasn't right.

But she would never see that now, not now that she had got that ugly tattoo on her arm, now that she had killed and tortured and who knows what else.

And now, an invitation to do the same. To turn her sister into a monster.

Andromeda had loved her sister once. Now, though … she couldn't help but think that Bellatrix was beyond repair.

She looked up to see Judy looking at her. "You sure?"

"What?"

"That you'll be okay."

She didn't hesitate. "Of course."

* * *

 _Bellatrix,_

 _He sounds like a hero, and you are one too now that you work with him, but I'm afraid it is not in me to be heroic in any way, and I would be of no help in the ranks. You, Rodolphus and Rabastan are more than enough to represent the Lestrange family I'm sure. I will stay at home and do whatever women are expected to do - whatever Mother does when we are away. I thank you for the invitation, and here is my polite decline._

 _Yours,_

 _Andromeda._

The Owlery stunk. Feathers littered the floor among all sorts of filth, and the room was full of the flutter of wings and the indignant hooting of the birds.

She came up here every two weeks to send her letters, but today she was going early, now that she had the strength to refuse Bellatrix's offer.

The owl she had chosen stuck his leg out and looked at her expectantly.

She hesitated. The letter was curled in her hand and sealed with the Black crest. It was only small, but seemed like a dead weight.

"You have no right," She murmured to the tiny piece of parchment, "No right to do this to me. I have never been indecisive in my life, and look at me now! Can't even send a stupid letter."

She glared at the letter, then at the owl, whose amber eyes now looked more angry than inviting.

"What's the owl done to you?" came a voice from the entrance.

She spun around and saw a head of dark blonde hair and a faceful of freckles.

"Hello Edward."

He laughed, the sound rich and inviting, "Just Ted, _please_."

"Alright then, _Ted._ " She said as he stepped into the little round room.

"So," he started, quirking an eyebrow, "What has that poor owl done to offend you?"

"It's evil."

He laughed again, "I doubt that. Look, it's cute!"

"No, it isn't. Those glaring eyes aren't making it any easier to send this letter."

He looked a little confused. "What's in the letter?"

Andromeda turned cold. She hadn't meant to, but she didn't want him thinking of her as a future follower of ... of _him,_ so she did what the rest of her family had always done and let her voice become icy and unpleasant. "None of your business."

"Oh, right," he said, his voice a little dampened. "Can you tell me why you can't send it?"

She considered for a moment. That wouldn't do any harm, and how could she resist the smile that danced on his lips?

"I'm scared. My sister wants me to go to a … _party_ , of sorts. I just … don't like the people who are going."

Ted didn't seem to mind her obvious lie. "Why is that scary?"

She stumbled through an explanation, finding the lie rather easy to go with after years of learning to twist her words around her family and her house. "Because I've declined, and it's a rather important party. My sister is terrifying at the best of times, and my parents would like me to go. To … make connections."

Ted nodded, quickly tied a note on what looked like muggle paper to the leg of an owl, and watched it fly away, before turning back to her.

He gave a winning smile that lit the whole room. "Well, best of luck in ... whatever you're doing. We have our first patrol tomorrow. Meet me at ten by the prefects' lounge?"

She smiled a little, not sure why she was doing it, but sure that it was the right thing to do. Something fluttered behind her eye. "Yes. I'll see you then."

He walked off, and Andromeda looked back to owl. "Come here."

Neatly tying the note to its leg with a black ribbon, she stood back to look at it the owl last time.

"Go on," she said, and watched her last shred of control in this world be carried away in a flurry of feathers.

* * *

"Mum's against him."

They were sitting in the library, an eerie silence hanging around the shelves. Andromeda reached up for an old tome, dust coming with it in a shower over her head, stinging her eyes and making her cough.

"Who?" She asked Judy, who was sitting up on the table (away from the prying eyes of the librarian, of course.

"Him. You know. _Him._ "

"Still don't get it." She started scanning the shelves again, only half listening to the conversation.

Judy's voice came in a whisper. "The Dark Lord."

A book came smashing onto Andromeda's foot, making her cry out a little. Once she recovered, she stared at her best friend. " _What?"_

"I mean, I don't know who I agree with. We don't have to know yet, do we? We're away from all that here."

"I guess," Andromeda said, thinking the opposite: bitter thoughts about the pressure from her parents and Bella's ravings.

"And, well … everyone says he's so great, but … what has he done that's _good_? What's really wrong with mudbloods?"

"Muggleborns."

Judy frowned, "What?"

"If you think like that, you'd better call them muggleborns."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right."

They took the books to their table, settling down in silence for a little while.

"They want me to join."

The silence was absolute apart from the turning of pages.

"Join … him?"

"Yeah. Bella's mad about it, and they want someone to represent the Blacks other than a lunatic. They think we need to be part of this new revolution." Judy didn't say a thing. "I'm guessing they just want some power left once he's in charge."

"If," Judy whispered, "If he wins."

"Yeah," Andromeda said, "I hope it's all over soon."

She thought about Judy. Judy, who had those views that Andromeda wished she could have herself, who had the confidence to use it. Judy, who would probably do whatever she tried, whether it be kissing the boy she liked or taking down the Dark Lord.

And she imagined herself. She was in that little Black box, not bothering to ty to get out anymore. She was a doll hanging from its strings. Only it was different this time, because she had the Black ring on one finger, the Lestrange one on another, and on her forearm there was an ugly black tattoo that resembled a snake emerging from a hideous skull.

That mark would keep her away from her best friend. Judy's views and Andromeda's family would ensure that they'd be pried apart, maybe even fighting against each other in a never-ending war.

Her little Black box was more than that, she realised. More than just a prison.

She would lie in it. She would cry in it. She would die in it. Her body would rot in it.

It was a coffin.


	6. A (very) Friendly Face

**Sorry. Late again. No excuses. Ish. I didn't know what to write.**

 **I'm loving the reviews! Lots of people want more Rabastan/Andromeda (Rabomeda? Radromeda? Andastan?). I'll do my best, but she's at school right now! If you have any ideas or requests, please let me know via review or PM.**

 **Nice happy chapter (that** _ **is**_ **a change), with lots(ish) of Tedromeda.**

 **[Okay, I just finished writing this chapter. I've killed all the good vibes.]**

 **A (very) FRIENDLY FACE**

For Andromeda, Charms class was a relieving break. She sat at the back with Judy, where they forgot any sort of trouble at all, discussing rumours about their classmates (and teachers) all lesson long. Whenever Flitwick wandered too near their desks, they perfectly performed whatever spell they were meant to be practising and continued with their mindless gossip. Well, Andromeda did.

Despite being a wonder with a quill, everything went awry when Judy tried the practical side of things, especially in something as delicate as charms.

 _Arrggghhhhhh!_

Everyone turned at the ear splitting scream from the second-to-back row. Instead of creating a trickle of water, Judy had made a river, and one that had squirted directly into the face of Madison Bulstrode. She was rather large (and had been bullied for it until she started to hit back), and after a second of confusion, her rather piggy face scrunched in anger.

Andromeda half expected steam to erupt from her ears.

The entire class had turned when she'd screeched, and the last of the falling water settled into the cups they were practising on.

Silence.

"What was that, Crouch? Trying to soak me, are you? Trying to drown me just 'cause you want my place on the team? No thanks, Crouch."

Professor Flitwick hurried towards the commotion as fast as his tiny legs could carry him.

"Girls, please calm down. I'm sure it was a accident, Miss Bulstrode. Miss Crouch, please try to control the spell a little better today. We don't want any more incidents."

And so the Charms class continued.

Andromeda looked at her friend, "Well done. Now you'll never get on the team!" she scolded.

Judy had spent all of last year practising so she could get onto the quidditch team, and to ruin it only a week before tryouts was a tragedy.

Judy laughed, "She's not the captain. Anyway, I'll just have to play so well they can't refuse me."

"You do that."

They practised the charm a few times to avoid suspicion, then laughed at their own whispered jokes, giggling like a pair of lunatics.

Before they knew it, class was over and Flitwick was taking in homework and setting more. There was a flurry to get out the door and-

"Miss Black, could you wait behind? You too, Slinkhard."

Frowning, Andromeda stood awkwardly beside the muggleborn girl, Wendy Slinkhard, who - because she was a Ravenclaw rather than a fellow Slytherin - she'd never spoken to.

"I would like to ask you two girls," he started once the door shut behind the last of the other students, "to attend an Advanced Charms class. We'll have students from fifth, sixth and seventh year, all houses, just coming once a week. A bit like a club. We study things that aren't on the curriculum that I know others in the school wouldn't be interested in, but you and the other chosen students will certainly benefit and enjoy some extra material. What do you say?"

Wendy readily agreed and Andromeda nodded too. She did enjoy charms, finding it particularly easy.

She got out into the corridor where Judy was waiting and together they wandered towards the dungeons.

* * *

Andromeda knocked awkwardly and pushed the door to the Charms classroom, looking nervously at the occupants. There weren't many, it seemed, who were deemed 'advanced' in Charms, so most of the desks sat empty.

Molly Prewett grinned from her seat beside Yasmine Littlechild, and Andromeda smiled back, taking a seat behind her.

Molly and Andromeda had never talked, but the redheaded girl seemed to always have that warm love bursting from every part of her.

It was that moment, while Andromeda fetched a quill and parchment from her satchel, that _he_ walked in.

Ted took the seat next to her.

"Hey," he said.

She hoped she wasn't blushing. "Hello."

 _(A Black should be the very epitome of grace and respectability.)_

Suddenly she felt self-conscious.

 _(A Black has no need to worry about what others see in them. Inferiors should be worried about what a Black sees in_ them _, because the word and action of a Black is all that should matter.)_

As Flitwick talked about wards and protection, Andromeda could hardly concentrate. That soft face beside her, nose scrunched in concentration, freckles dusted across honeyed skin. His foot tapped mercilessly against the leg of the table, the rhythmic vibrations reaching to where Andromeda sat.

She wished he would stop tempting her.

When they were practising (in pairs, to test whether the wards kept people out or not), he grinned at her. "You want to go first, or should I?"

Shrugging awkwardly, she gestured at him, "You go."

He raised his wand, " _Protego maxima._ "

Nothing happened.

" _Protego maxima."_

Andromeda winced to herself. She was going to have to help out. "You need to flourish the wand a bit more. Keep it firm, but let the end twirl."

He smiled and did so, " _Protego maxima._ "

Magic shot into the air, creating an iridescent bubble around Ted. It shimmered slightly in the light, a spectrum of blues and pinks and purples. She thought of the time her father had told her that a mudblood's magic was dirty and foul. Now, seeing that shine, she thought magic had never been more beautiful.

"Thanks, Andy." He said.

 _Andy._ She never let anyone call her that, but for once it felt right. Not _Andromeda_ , but _Andy._ He said it impossibly softly.

Her entire life, it had been Andromeda this and Andromeda that, the smile on Judy's face morphing into the curled lips of Rabastan. It had been said loudly, darkly, threateningly, in every way but soft. The way Ted said it was like a cloud of goose down.

 _Andromeda._ The disappointed scold of her father when she'd got an A in Transfiguration OWLs.

 _Andromeda!_ Judy's cry, loud and welcoming, but at the time (having just been put through a whole holiday-ful of Black family discipline) it had been _too much._

 _Andromeda._ The judging stares of the teachers, putting her into a box along with the rest of her family.

 _My dearest Andromeda._ Rabastan's voice as thick and slimy as mouldy polyjuice potion, eyes as dead as a dragon's.

 _Andy._ Soft and sweet and perfect.

* * *

After the lesson, Yasmine and Molly cornered her outside the classroom.

"Ted Tonks, eh?"

"Nice choice."

Andromeda flushed red, "No! We're friends."

"But …"

"No," she said quietly, holding her left hand (on which glittered the ring Rabastan had given her), "Just friends."

Molly smiled, "Oh! How exciting. Who to?"

They looked genuinely happy for her. They didn't know how the ring chafed her skin, how she spun it around and around her finger, wishing she had the strength to take it off. They didn't know how heavy it was, how she hated it.

"Rabastan Lestrange."

Yasmine frowned, "I didn't know you two were…"

"We weren't. It's arranged." She said, aware how short she sounded, how tight her voice had gone. She saw the flashes of pity on the two Gryffindors' faces. she didn't want their pity. Pity was for the weak. "What about you and Arthur, though Molly? It's perfect! We're all glad you finally came to your senses."

They talked all the way back to the entrance hall, where the two others ascended the stairs to their tower, and Andromeda descended into the dungeons.

She didn't miss their parting looks that clearly said 'sorry'. She didn't lie to herself and pretend they weren't currently discussing her bad fortune. She just wished she were free of all this.

* * *

Back in the common room, Judy was frowning over a letter, red hair falling over her face, lanky limbs sprawled over a huge armchair.

"Move up," Andromeda said.

Judy barely moved.

"Judy? Judy! Judith Crouch!"

Rolling her eyes, Andy squeezed into the tiny gap that remained between the arm of the chair and the (still immobile) body of her best friend.

She only saw a few lines of the letter.

… _has become a frequently appearing threat … option is remaining inside the house … be careful … is a powerful influence … barely scraping by the offers …_

Judy's hands were shaking ever so slightly, her eyes scanning the text over and over again as if not believing it was there at all.

"Judy? Judy, what's the letter?"

Her blue eyes were glazed over a bit, her smile forced, "Nothing. A late Valentines … or is it early?"

"Jude-"

"Better than you, though, at least I actually _got_ one. Terrible timing. Hope it's not from some-"

"Judy, stop. Stop, please. What's the letter? You can tell me."

She was frozen for a moment, the smile slipping to reveal an expression that could only be described as desperate.

The facade was back up in an instant. "Exactly what I just said."

Judy hopped up the steps to the dormitories, and Andromeda wished they could just speak the truth to each other once in a while.

* * *

Patrol was that night.

Andromeda wished her heart didn't have to beat so fast. She wished her quickening breath wouldn't give her away so easily. She wished she could tame her hair a bit better.

She wished she knew why this mattered at all. She was _engaged_ , and obliged to be happy because of it, not stressing about a prefect patrol with a stupid crush.

And that's all it could be, because Andromeda certainly didn't want to get attached.

"Hi," she said when she reached the corridor where they'd arranged to meet.

"Hey. I was thinking - just one sweep of the castle, or going back over the bigger corridors?"

"Eeerr… I'll let you decide. I have no idea why they made me a prefect at all. I hardly patrolled at all last year. Kept … forgetting."

Ted laughed (she wished he'd stop doing that), "Probably your effortless good grades and the study club you created for OWLs. Plus, you didn't forget at all. You just wanted to avoid Monica Harris."

Andy found herself laughing too. "Yes, there was that."

They started moving down the corridor, checking behind tapestries and in empty classrooms as they walked. Ted continued, laughter shining in his eyes, his smile welcome like no-one else's had ever been, "How did you survive the patrols you turned up to? She's awful!"

"You tell me! You live in the same common room, eat at the same table, are in the same classes - how have you not killed her yet? She never stops _talking_."

"Hypocrite." he chuckled.

"What?"

"Your best friend is Judith Crouch. You're in a dormitory with _Dolores Umbridge_."

"Well, I suppose there is that."

They talked for what seemed like years. They'd only spoken a few times to each other, but they laughed like lifelong friends and Andy returned to the dormitory in high spirits.

She tried to make herself presetable before going in, in case anyone was awake.

Were her cheeks flushed from laughing? Was she smiling too widely?

She pushed on the door and it opened to the worst possible scene.

Dolores Umbridge was standing on her bed, Madison Bulstrode beside her.

In her hand was a letter, and she was reading aloud, "I just need you to be careful. He is a powerful influence and we are barely scraping by the offers. We cannot get out of the house without cloaked figures converging by the gate. Additionally, you father is terribly ill, and-"

Judy's letter. The one she had been so worked up about, the one that made her hands shake.

On her bed, glaring at Dolores with half the strength she normally did, head in hands and eyes red, was Judy. She looked a mess.

"Shut up," Andromeda said, marching towards the frog-faced girl and snatching the letter.

Madison looked at her, trying to be threatening. "You don't want to do that."

"Oh, but I do," she said, then promptly punched Madison's face. She had never thrown a punch before, so it bore rather pathetic results, but it was the thought that counted. While Dolores stared in confusion, Madison stood still in shock. Andy grabbed Judy's hand and dragged her away from the scene, the dormitory door slamming shut behind them.

Andy frowned, "How could you let them do that?"

"I-"

"Honestly, Judy. You're normally so strong, but now … are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"No, Judy. You're really not. Do you need the hospital wing, or…"

"I'm _fine_ , Andromeda. Nothing you need to worry your perfect little head about. You go and despair about an arranged marriage to a rich man, and I'll cry about my father, who is _DYING_ , about my mother, who is being _HUNTED_ by the man your parents support. Who _you_ support."

Time stood still. They were alone in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room, but Andromeda knew better than anyone that walls had ears.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't know."

"Didn't bother to ask either, did you?"

She had. She had tried, but she didn't say so. She'd never seen Judy so upset, tears welling in her eyes, hair tangled, mouth in an unfamiliar frown. This wasn't some simple problem. This was the strongest person she knew breaking down.

"I'm sorry. How is your father?"

"Ill with something. I dunno what. They can't get to St Mungo's 'cause of … 'cause of you-know-who."

"Ah. I don't … I don't support him. You know that, right? Bella does, and my parents do. Rabastan does, but I don't understand how killing can be a good thing."

Judy smiled a bit, "Thank you. I thought … I just assumed … sorry."

"Don't apologise. Please, it'll just make me feel bad."

"Please don't," she was frowning again, looking so _desperate,_ "Don't feel bad. Don't let me make you feel bad."

There was silence. Not a cold one that Andromeda found herself experiencing too often, but one as soft as goose down. The comfortable silence that only the best of friends could feel.

"If you need to talk about it - any of it - I'm here, okay?" Andromeda whispered, "I'm always here."


	7. The Refuge

**I, as the author (that sounds really nice to say. Well, write.), am confused about my timeline so I have been kind enough (it took 30 whole seconds of my time) to look back and find out where we are. The answer … I dunno. The beginning of this chapter is mid February (?) and after the timeskip (no, that doesn't count as a spoiler), we're in March.**

 **Believe it or not, I do (kinda) have a plan for where this is going. JK Rowling made some of it. But that's happening in chapter … 60? 60? Long long time.**

 **Sorry this took a while. I'm slow and lazy and I've been ill and MY CAT IS SO ANNOYING.**

 **This is pretty lighthearted. Don't worry - the angst is coming. Just you wait. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!**

 **Also, I've thought of a way to have some Rabastan/Andromeda! No, I'm not going to tell you. Wait a bit.**

* * *

 **THE REFUGE**

 **February 1970**

Judy and Andromeda stayed in the Common Room until midnight, trying to forget the world. The walls of their respective boxes had retreated, the pressures on their shoulders lessened for the time being. Slowly, slowly, other students packed away their essays and gobstones sets to go to bed, the room descending into a comfortable silence. The dim green light was soft and gentle, the sofas like clouds.

"I wonder," Judy said, "Whether the world will ever be right again." Her eyes reflected the firelight.

Andromeda turned to her. "Is it wrong now?" Her voice seemed too loud in the silence. She was afraid the atmosphere might shatter and the outside world break through.

"Ever so wrong. Everything's … backwards. Shouldn't Hogwarts be the safest place for children? It seems to be worse here than at home. The influence … _his_ influence is … everywhere. Kids are turning into monsters."

Andromeda didn't say that, for her, _he_ had already taken over. She didn't say that home was the most painful place for her. She didn't say how scared she was. "We have to pretend, Judy. We have to pretend or the monsters will eat us." She thought of Bellatrix, who was too far gone to ever be sane again. She thought of the children who attended their Christmas parties, faces blank as dark dolls. _He_ was creating generations of killers. "I don't know how we'll ever escape it all."

Judy had never been so serious in her life as she said, "I'm not pretending. Never will I pretend to enjoy killing others. I don't mind if we never escape - I will die for this. I know I'm only sixteen and I'm young and I've got a life ahead of me, but if no-one acts, there'll be no innocent life at all. Andromeda, that man is taking away childhood."

"Yes," she said, and left it at that. How could she ever act? Against her parents and sisters and fiance? How could she ever act against her whole life?

"Is Rabastan...?"

She nodded, remembering that terrible mark on his arm.

"And Bellatrix?"

"All of them." She thought of a dinner party with a hooded man, one which her parents had been especially stressed for, "I'm scared. I'm surrounded by them, and soon enough they'll wonder why I'm not one too."

The silence seemed to grow quieter.

Judy didn't say anything, so Andromeda went on. She couldn't stop, letting the words roll out of her. "I'm worried they'll assume I'm like them. I'm worried I'll be forced to do something I don't believe in. I'm worried that my only two options in life are killer or housewife." She looked to her best friend, "I'm _scared_ , Judy. Scared that I'll make the wrong choices and end up as mad as the rest of my family."

Judy just smiled, "I trust you, Andromeda Black. You'll do the right thing."

The clock in the corner chimed midnight, the flames of the hearth flickered out, and a yawn built in Andy's throat. They climbed the stairs to the dormitory in silence.

The room was dark, green hangings swaying in the wind from the open window. As she got into bed, Andromeda found herself imagining a world without _him_. Without you-know-who. Surely a world like that wasn't possible? A world without that higher evil. Her whole life had been shadowed - when she was very young, everyone had still lived in fear of Grindelwald's return, and now this new threat had arrived and half the world was fighting with him, the other half resisting. She imagined that other half, whom she'd never had contact with, in robes of flowing white. She imagined them falling, falling, red blossoming over their hearts. She imagined them dying, and thought that must be an accurate representation of the future: blood soaking the pure; Darkness taking the Light.

She wondered whether the world would ever be right again.

* * *

A month passed - a cycle of avoiding Umbridge, prefect patrols, homework, conversations that always fell short, and Ted Tonks.

Andromeda was rather ashamed to say that she _still_ fancied Ted Tonks. In fact, it was increasing steadily. That meant blushing, stammering, clumsiness, and general things that certainly didn't suit a lady at all. They were permanent partners in Advanced Charms, and by this stage, more flirting was done (by Ted) than spell-casting, and more blushing (by Andy) than breathing.

More letters - in fact, so may so that it was getting rather tedious to hear the same crazed rants from Bella and expectant drivel from her parents and sickly sweet notes from Rabastan.

Lessons: boring. In every other year she had enjoyed her subjects, but NEWT work was nastily exhausting, and a lot more theory than anyone was used to (even Andromeda, whose parents had long been hiring tutors for her).

Judy was alright now. She had converted back almost to the loudness levels she had reached before. Her smile quick and wits sharp, she was back to being _her._ Of course, the odd worrisome letter from her mother came through, telling of her father's depleting conditions and to 'not worry too much, darling', which never helped.

A month like the breath of fresh air before the plunge.

* * *

 **March 1970**

Ted and Andy were patrolling again. The awkwardness with which their first patrol had gone had dissolved in laughter and smiles.

"So … how's Slytherin?"

Andromeda shrugged, thinking what a vague question that was. "Good."

Ted turned to her, laughter in his eyes, "You do realise some people in the other houses think everything about you lot is slimy and Dark?"

She laughed, "We live under the Lake. Of course it's slimy."

"And Dark?"

"Not if you stay away from the wrong crowd."

The conversation seemed to become low, "And who's that?"

Andy shrugged, "Macnair. Malfoy. All that lot. Sitting in the corner of the common room, thinking they're so important. No-one likes them. People are afraid; people want to be their friends to escape their wrath. But nobody really likes them. Not really."

Ted frowned, "There'll always be some. Are they … just believing _him,_ or are they actually …" he trailed off. "I mean, how far do they…"

Andromeda thought of the tattoos a couple of them proudly displayed in the green light of the common room. She thought of the books they passed around, the occasional speech to everyone else in the room. She thought of them saying 'the Dark Lord', as if he was some god, some great being far above themselves, how they revered him, and some seemed to know what he looked like, how she'd once heard a seventh year describe his actual appearance. "I don't know," she said, something inside her wanting to protect Ted's view of her house, "Can't be too serious, can it? They're all just kids."

But was she just trying to convince herself?

Ted ' _hmmmm_ 'ed. "We're kids and you're already bloody engaged," he muttered.

She couldn't bring it inside herself to be bitter anymore. Couldn't, after two and a half months of this constant onslaught of questions and comments on her betrothal, even bear to think about it anymore. It was all already thought out, every excruciating detail, everything that could happen in the rest of her lifetime and every way to avoid it. She mimicked Ted, "Mmmmm."

"What about Judy?" He asked. Andromeda knew he'd never even spoken a word to Judith Crouch, but she appreciated the sentiment anyway. "She seems … different this term. I've hardly seen her at all. Normally she's in the spotlight."

Andromeda hadn't thought about that. "She's going through some things. I guess she doesn't want to be too conspicuous." And that was true. Andy had hardly seen Judy speak to anyone since the letter came (unlike the last few years, in which Judy had been the loudest and funniest in every room, attracting every eye), but she hadn't considered that it might be because of the situation with her mum. Was Judy trying to keep the eyes away from her, to stay under the radar?

"I-" Ted broke off, frowning. "What's this?"

A small arrow was carved into the ancient bricks of Hogwarts castle. It must be old, too - no vandal would make such a discreet shape, small and elegant at waist-height. The brick was also slightly weathered around it, as if a hundred people had run their finger across…

Andy lightly brushed her index finger from the fletching to the arrowhead. A creaking groan, like a stone monster waking from a great slumber, echoed in the corridor. It wasn't loud, and as prefects they were perfectly entitled to be there, but she found herself looking around anyway, trying to discern whether the sound was loud enough for anyone else but her and Ted to hear.

While scanning everywhere else, she nearly missed the wall as it slid open with a final rasp of stone and clicked into place. A thin gap was before her, like a doorway, and only just wide enough for them to get through.

She wondered what ancient beasts lurked in the dark. She'd heard plenty of stories where students went missing in the castle, when secret passageways closed on them and they starved, or a troll lived in a remote dungeon corridor that ate first years, and there was one about a dragon in the west wing (which was impossible, she was pretty sure), and this seemed just like another one of those tales.

Naturally, she walked straight in.

With a quick " _Lumos,_ " the room was lit with harsh wandlight. Chairs. A table. An ornate fireplace. It looked like a teacher's office from the dusty bookcase in the corner to the various teacups on the mantelpiece.

"Wow," breathed Ted, who had obviously followed her in. "This place hasn't been touched in decades. Look at this dust!"

There seemed to be an unspoken rule to whisper.

"These books," Andy said, scanning the shelf, "Ancient. History of magic, it looks like. These would sell for thousands of galleons. You have no idea how much ancient texts cost."

"Honestly?" he said, " _Thousands?_ "

"Yeah."

They explored further, from the portrait of a sad-looking girl holding a cat (which looked long dead, though they didn't have the heart to tell the girl that), to the wand that still lay on the desk.

"Looks like the professor never packed away. No-one would leave their wand."

"Wish he was still here. Probably better than Binns."

Andy laughed lightly, as if anything louder would shatter the atmosphere. "Probably long, long dead."

As they thought about the fact this was decades ago, and that the wand was still there, they grew silent. "Maybe we should tell someone." Ted said. "I mean … all his stuff."

"Or her. But yeah. What if they had a family? They'd want the wand."

"And the books. Any chance we could just … _not_ mention the books?"

In the end, they packed most of the stuff up, even a majority of the books. They'd found an empty trunk under the desk, and had put the books and other trinkets like a handsome paperweight and a cloak inside, with the wand neatly on top.

"We'll take it to Dumbledore," said Andromeda. "He can decide what to do. Chances are, the professor was one of his employees or colleagues or something."

And they did, trudging along the corridors and dragging the trunk behind them, wincing at the noise the faulty wheel made.

Andy wondered what her parent would think if they knew she was doing such thing with a mudblood. They'd move her to Beauxbatons, at least. Probably curse her head off. But she found herself not really caring, because Ted was kind and sweet, and even funny, which wasn't something she was used to, so was pleasantly surprising. They were _friends_ , which was something beautiful and delicate that Andromeda experienced so rarely nowadays, with no-one but Judy and perhaps Narcissa.

"Oi!" came a harsh voice from down the corridor.

They turned to see Apollyon Pringle limping towards them, a scowl on his face, nose scrunched and forehead creased.

"What you doin' down 'ere?" He said, rough east London accent grating in the air as he looked down at them.

He was incredibly tall, and might be handsome if he didn't spend all day and night frowning, which left wrinkles on his face like deep trenches.

"We're prefects," Andromeda said. She turned to Ted, "We're patrolling."

Ted certainly wouldn't be helping anytime soon. He was frozen solid, staring up at Pringle as if he was the Dark Lord himself.

She rolled her eyes. _Boys._

"It's one in th' mornin'. Ain't no patrols past eleven. I dunno what you fink you're doin', but you're cer'ainly not meant 'a be 'ere."

"We found something, sir. We're taking it to Professor Dumbledore."

"Seems like a lovers' adventcha to me. You bin at th' broom closets the last few hours? Trying t' act all goody-goody prefects?"

"No! We're not … eugh." She found herself full of the best broom closet imaginings, but pushed them away. "Look, we're prefects." She held out her badge to him.

"Prefects like broom closets as much as th' next student. The fings I've seen in all these years. Scar your soul, they would. Naughty naughty children."

"Look, Mr. Pringle. Take us to the headmaster. He'll speak to us, and if he wants to give us a detention, he can." She looked him in the eye, not blinking, not backing down.

She _really_ couldn't get in trouble again. Not if she wanted to keep her head firmly on her shoulders.

He looked like he wanted to refuse, but after a god minute of glaring at her, eyes bulging comically (but scarily, apparently, for Ted, who whimpered), he gave a sharp nod and gestured for them to follow him.

They followed his wandlight, Ted seeming a little unsteady, ("What is _wrong_ with you, Edward? Come on, or he'll give us a detention for lagging behind.") but seemed unenthusiastic to be on Pringle's bad side, ("Alright, alright." … "What if he just takes us to _his_ office?").

Finally, they stood in front of a statue of a griffin. Pringle glared at them again (more whimpers) and told them to stay put as he muttered a password and ascended a magically moving staircase.

Andromeda turned to her fellow prefect, who seemed a lot calmer than he had been five seconds ago. "What's wrong with you? You were terrified!"

"He's scary."

"He's dumb."

Ted looked unconvinced. "Scary. Caught me once in fourth year. Still got the marks."

She frowned, "He beats students?"

"Only if they're really bad."

"What, like you? I can't imagine you breaking the rules at all, never mind anything 'really bad'. What did you even do?"

He smiled a bit. "Dungbombs in his underwear drawer. You know, the ones that don't wash out?"

Andy stared. At his utterly serious, almost sombre face. And started to laugh.

It started as a kind of hiccough. And rose and rose until she was giggling like a madwoman. Ted seemed confused but started laughing anyway, until both of them were in stitches for something so unfunny that neither of them were sure why they started laughing at all.

It was in this condition, needing the wall to support themselves, that Professor Dumbledore found them, dressed in a bright purple nightshirt and a green cap, each covered in miniature pictures they couldn't quite make out.

"My, my," said Dumbledore. "A laughing hex? Over-enthusiastic cheering charm?"

Pringle, lurking behind him, spoke, "No. I found these two in the corridors."

"They're prefects, Apollyon."

"Too late for prefects, sir. They say they need to see you."

They had straightened up by then, and looked at the elderly headmaster.

"We found this," Andromeda said. "It was in an office, and we thought you might want to … well, look."

She gestured at Ted, who opened up the trunk and held out some of the stuff.

Dumbledore started to mutter under his breath either to himself or to them, Andy wasn't sure. "Ah. The wand seems old. Handcarven, intricate. Nowadays they hardly add patterns as flamboyant as this. And the books … History, it seems. Old texts. _Very_ old. Look at the dust on that cloak. Also old … the tag says made in 1883." Dumbledore looked up. "I knew the man who taught before Professor Binns only very briefly - Flavius Lennox. It seems you have found his office. I'm quite curious as to where you came across it - I've been searching for many years."

Nearly a hundred years, it seemed.

Andromeda was about to open her mouth and tell Professor Dumbledore where it was - _fourth floor. There's an arrow next to the tapestry of the boy riding the dragon_ \- but Ted beat her to it.

"I don't remember. It was dark, and we were chatting. Not really looking where we were going, Professor."

She tried not to look too surprised. Who knew Ted Tonks could lie? Why did he lie at all?

Dumbledore's eyes were fixed on his. "Really?"

"Yes."

"And you, Miss Black? Do you remember?"

Would she tell him? The man who the entire wizarding world (excluding the Black family) loved and revered, who devoted his life to teaching children, no matter of their blood status? Could she lie to him?

She had lied to her father about stealing a cupcake before dinnertime at Bellatrix's tenth birthday. She had lied to her mother about drinking the finest elf-made wine from the cellar last year. She had lied to Grandfather Arcturus, even, all the times she had assured him of how gentlemanly her fiancé was. She could certainly lie to a mad old man.

"I don't think so, sir."

She didn't let Dumbledore look into her eyes. Only a fool would look a powerful wizard in the eye. Instead, she looked a centimetre to the left. Legilimency only worked with complete eye contact.

Dumbledore nodded, "I will take this to his daughter, who I'm quite sure is turning eighty-three years old this Friday, and living in Norfolk. Thank you."

As he walked off, he looked at Ted one last time. He _knew._

Pringle told the two of them to return to Hufflepuff and Slytherin, respectively, and walked off, grumbling under his breath.

Andy looked at Ted. "You lied."

He turned to her, "So did you."

"You started it."

"And you ended it."

She huffed impatiently, "He knows we lied. Did you see his face? He used legilimency on you, Edward."

"And he doesn't care."

They started walking. "Why?" Andy asked, breaking the comfortable silence, "Why lie?"

"I dunno," Ted said. She could barely see him in this light, but she knew his eyes must be scrunching up in thought, that his lips were twisting uncomfortably, "I just thought … it's a good place to go. A good place to have as a secret. Might be useful."

Andromeda couldn't help but think of Pringle's broom closet comments, and the thoughts they had provoked. "Yeah. Useful."

At the point where they'd have to part - Ted to go to the Hufflepuff common room and Andromeda to continue descending towards the dungeons - Ted stopped abruptly.

"Look, Andy, I…" He didn't look scared as he had earlier, but nervous. "I was wondering. There's a Hogsmeade visit. Next week. Would you like to come? With … with me?"

Andromeda grinned. "I'd love to."

* * *

Lennox's office, the next morning, was where they arranged a study date.

Well, that's what she called it in her head. In reality, Ted had said, "There's a Charms test on Monday. Do you want to practice tomorrow so we're ready?"

She had never thought anything could be so confusing. They were meeting at Hogsmeade next weekend, and she thought of that as a date. Of course, with Rabastan, she wasn't supposed to be dating. Did Ted realise that it couldn't be public? Did he see it as a date at all, or was she taking everything the wrong way?

He was already there when she got to their secret place. He'd cleaned it up a bit (he'd transfigured the hard wooden chairs into comfy sofas and fixed the light, summoned blankets and cushions from who-knows-where, tidied up the bookshelf, added a few books of his own - muggle literature, mostly, but Andromeda could see a large range of textbooks too - wiped up the dust, and much more), and it looked like a different place. Homely, like their own secret refuge. For that's what it was, really. A way to be at peace, a place to get away.

"It's perfect," was the first thing she said.

Ted smiled, "Thanks."

And they wasted away their Saturday morning, talking and laughing and studying.


	8. Upside Down

**Well … hi. Sorry.**

 **UPSIDE DOWN**

The room was filled with a spectacular warmth from the small fire. Although small, it was infinitely more pleasant than the admittedly rather damp Slytherin common room. They'd only discovered it two days ago, and already it felt like home.

"What did you think of the Charms test?" Ted asked.

"Oh, easy! Honestly, we learned that years ago, I swear! I understand there are some trolls like Parkinson, but Flitwick should at least _try_ to challenge us."

"Troll? Parkinson's at least part hag."

She laughed. Andromeda had found herself doing an awful lot of laughing recently, ever since Judy managed a smile again and she'd become fast friends with Ted. It was a reflex, almost, and this laughter-filled week must be making up for years of silence as a child. Cold, dark years. Nothing compared to these golden hours with Edward Tonks - a muggleborn! - in a dead professor's office.

And with a Hogsmeade weekend - Hogsmeade _date_ \- on the horizon, she couldn't be happier. When was the last time she had a date she actually wanted to go on?

So now, tangled in soft blankets and in the sweet company of Ted, she felt warm and fuzzy, the heat of the fire wrapping her head in layers of delirious bliss.

They had met (again - what must Judy be thinking?) after lessons to 'study', but they'd hardly done anything but talk.

"Is Dolohov still … after you?" Ted asked, quieting his tone.

Andy tried not to let it take from her contentedness, but that name made her want to be sick. "I don't know. I haven't seen him face-to-face in a while. He glares at me all through class, though."

Ted made a face. "Still going out with Umbridge?"

"Oh, yes. What an utter _toad_. They deserve each other." Her futile attempt at lightening the mood fell short.

"Let's not talk about them. Shouldn't have brought it up."

Ted looked at her, and she was suddenly acutely aware of how close they were. Their thighs were pressed together in a way that would make her mother scream, their noses centimetres away from touching, eyes boring into one another. They were the kind of close that made her feel the need to whisper when she spoke, in fear of loud words widening the gap.

"Yeah." She whispered.

She couldn't stop staring a significant distance below his eyes, looking at those plump lips and wondering how kissable they were.

 _Oh, God._ She was smitten.

Never before had she felt such an urge to move forwards and capture his lips with her own, taste his mouth as one might taste expensive wine.

But she didn't even need to, because _he_ was moving towards her, and she could feel his breath warming the air, hitting her cheek as a wave caressed the shore. And then it was gone, because there was no longer that gap between them. His mouth was on hers, and she melted into it, imagining him washing off the taste of Rabastan, relishing in the warmth of his lips. Fireworks sent sparks down to her toes, and his hand was on her cheek, holding her to him. She wanted - needed - to be closer, to feel him against her, to-

As soon as it had begun, it was over, leaving her lips cold and alone, her heart still racing on, her body still alight.

Speaking seemed suddenly out of the question, the two content to just look at each other in shock, cheeks flushed and lips just a little redder than before. It was one of those moments of beautiful silence that threatened to last forever, the heat of the fire and the heat of the kiss making the air between them like a furnace, burning brighter than anything Andromeda had ever seen. That kiss topped any other, not that she had much experience at all, sitting smugly on top of the pile like a proud winner of a durling competition. She was afraid to move or say anything lest she shatter the careful structure built in the brief aftermath of those moments, lest she topple the pile and leave her heart in a mess on the ground.

"Well," Ted whispered.

"Well what?" She replied.

"I have no idea." He said, dissolving into laughter.

Together, they sunk back into the pillows, laughing at everything and nothing, resolving silently that this was _it._ This was everything.

Andromeda rested her head on his shoulder, feeling that warmth again running through his body too, and liking the solidness of him.

Things like this - kissing, in this situation - generally took longer in the books Andy had read. Courtship, and holding hands, and hand-kisses, and cheek-kisses, head-kisses (and a thousand other kisses not nearly as exciting as this one had been), usually came first. She supposed her mother had provided the books that were ' _right'_ , with marriages into wealthy families, often arranged like her own, and never, _ever_ , anything as fast and bright as this. She hadn't known it was possible for this to come so quickly, but it had creeped up on her and she was kissing someone who was not only entirely unsuitable, but someone who hadn't even taken her out first.

Mother would be ashamed.

She was _engaged_ , for Merlin's sake. Engaged to Rabastan Lestrange, not this muggleborn with soft hands and freckles and a lazy smile.

What was she _doing?_

Whatever it was, she decided, it felt right.

* * *

It was an hour later that Andromeda approached the Slytherin common room to find Judy. She was buzzing with the rush of the sweet kiss, a smile unable to leave her face. God, she needed to tell Judy or this would never cease.

When she saw their usual armchairs occupied by a group of first years, she assumed her friend was in the dormitory.

When she found Umbridge and her gaggle invading the dormitory (glaring at her), she assumed her friend was in the library.

When she found the library lacking a head of auburn hair, she just frowned. Judy was always reliable to be in those three places, or else she would've let Andy know.

The courtyard, the Black Lake, the Astronomy Tower, the Great Hall, _everywhere._ She'd searched the entire school for her friend and found no sign of her. Surely there was a map or something so she could at least find efficient ways to get places without coming to a million dead-ends?

What was Judy doing? Maybe snogging Dave Jugson in some remote broom closet again as 'revenge', just like last time Andy had 'ditched' her for a boy.

Curfew came and went, and Andromeda trudged back to the common room, expecting to find Judy waiting for her, completely knackered but laughing at the way Andy had panicked, or maybe fast asleep in bed, or completely oblivious to her friend's anxiety and was studying in the common room or something.

Or, like Andromeda found to be the truth, not there at all.

Which set her to a whole new level of panic and confusion.

She slept restlessly, half expecting Judy to return in the middle of the night, having lost track of time with Jugson or been kept behind by Professor Slughorn to talk about her homework.

Tossing, turning, sweating, twisting in the sheets, worrying her head off until finally falling asleep to equally stressful dreams.

* * *

In the morning, Andromeda woke with that disorientating feeling like something was _missing._ She'd dreamt of … something, the entire dream escaping her as she tried to think of it, as dreams so often did.

Dolores and her friends were gone, but they always left early to ogle the quidditch boys at breakfast, and Judy was…

Oh. Oh, right.

Judy's bed sat empty and unslept in.

Breakfast: lonely.

Potions: worried.

Transfiguration: no. No, no, no.

 _Who cares about Transfiguration anyway?_ She wondered, ignoring the familiar clack-clacking of her shoes down the silent corridor, thinking with paranoia about the attack from over a month before. _Was Judy attacked? Was that it?_

She headed to the headmaster's office.

The gargoyle at the entrance frowned. " _You_ should be in lessons," it hissed in a nasal, disproving, and rather bored-sounding voice.

"I know," Andromeda said. "But I need to speak to the Headmaster."

"Is that so?" It asked. "Do you know the password?"

She huffed, her brain unable to do anything but race in circles: _wheresjudywheresjudywheresjudywheresjudy._ "No. But it's urgent. Could you … tell him I'm here?"

It raised a stone eyebrow, "I'll need your name."

"Andromeda. Andromeda Black."

Waiting. Tapping foot. _Tap, tap, tap._ The muffled noises from a classroom across the hall. _Tap, tap, tap._ The faint brush of wind from through an open window. _Tap, tap, tap_. The crunch of stone as another staircase moves nearby. _Tap, tap, tap._ The nattering of portraits all around (" _Students just think they can miss lessons willy-nilly! … Disturbing the Headmaster in his free time, when they should be learning!")_. _Tap, tap, tap._

Finally, a much closer noise, from right where the gargoyle had sat. The whole wall began to move with a grinding, stone-on-stone rasp, revealing a staircase that had been hidden behind the wall. Without missing a beat, she made her way up.

The small wooden door at the top swung open for her. She had expected something grand for the entranceway of Dumbledore's office, but the elderly Headmaster had always had a knack for the unexpected. Her parents would call it senility. She thought is was eccentric, and rather quirky.

"Miss Black. Please do sit down," Dumbledore said, but Andromeda was staring all around her, at spinning silver trinkets and a display cabinet holding an assortment of relics, a dusty bookshelf and - peculiarly - a pot of muggle sweets. "Sherbet lemon?"

She was shocked for a moment, but hurriedly said, "No thank you." Her mother had described what terrible poisons muggles put inside their sweets, and she wasn't hungry anyway. "I … need to talk to you."

"Of course. Do take a seat."

This time she did, sitting in the surprisingly comfortable wooden chair on the other side of his desk. "It's about Judy," she said, "I haven't seen her since yesterday morning."

Professor Dumbledore frowned, "Judith Crouch?"

"Yes."

"You weren't informed about her whereabouts?"

Panic. Confusion. Anger with whoever was meant to tell her. "No."

"I'm afraid she was called to St. Mungo's. Her father is there under emergency situations, and … well, he isn't expected to recover. They're still looking for her mother."

No. Not Judy. This wasn't supposed to happen to Judy. It was names without faces in the newspapers, and the second year who they'd found crying in the charms corridor … death wasn't meant to be like this.

 _But how is it meant to be?_ She asked herself, and found herself lost inside her own mind. _How is death meant to happen, how is it meant to feel?_

When someone's in hospital, there's meant to be a miraculous recovery. When someone's missing, they're meant to be found somewhere remote in North Wales. When someone's going to die, there are meant to be more people who _know_. But no-one knew that Judy's father was in a critical condition. No-one knew that Judy's mother was running for her life, no-one but Judy knew the pain that must've caused, and no-one but Andromeda knew what it was like to try and sort through all of this.

Her parents had showed her life through a glass wall, where she could never be touched by death or politics or any pain but the type they inflicted themselves. When she first went to Hogwarts the glass had been lifted but only now did she truly experience the world. The ignorance of … of everyone. The truth was, she knew, that no-one would care. When Judy's dad died, some people would mutter condolences, but no-one but Judy and her mother and their close friends and maybe Andromeda (who had always liked Mr. Crouch) would care at all. Another name with no face. Another stranger crying in the corridor.

* * *

She was allowed into St Mungo's the next morning, after another sleep in which she should've been dreaming about kisses, but only dreamt of hospitals and death and wondering who would remember her if she died in that very instant.

She'd never been allowed to visit the hospital ("They let all sorts in there - ruffians and vagabonds and dirty hags. Best to hire a private doctor, I say."), and it was a strange place to be. They certainly let all sorts in ( _was that a werewolf?)_ , and the variety of people was shocking. She looked around in wonder, looking at people and wondering what ailments they were here for (some were obvious, like a man with a snidget up his nostril, but others were subtle, like the old woman who Andromeda only noticed at the last minute had scandalous images permanently projected onto her eyes).

Andy approached the desk. "Hello, I'm here to visit Mr. Crouch. He's ill."

The man behind the desk quirked an eyebrow, "I think you'll find rather a lot of people in here are ill."

Andromeda sighed, "Well, I don't know what exactly with. He was taken here under emergency and is still in a critical condition. Is there an emergency ward?"

The man laughed, "Don't worry. I know where he is." He rattled off the floor and room, and some vague instructions on how to get there.

Andromeda found herself walking into the private room that Mr Crouch was in after fifteen minutes and three wrong turns.

She went in slowly, cautiously, feeling the atmosphere on her tongue and not liking it at all; it was as if the place was already proclaimed to be a deathbed, with no sound but the occasional sniffle and the hum of a magically-operated machine.

The sniffling came from Judy, slumped in a chair at the father's bedside, dark red hair covering her face. The room was too cold.

"Judy?" Andromeda muttered.

Judith jumped with a start, looking at Andy with wide, tearful eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked tentatively. Terrible question. Terrible, terrible. Of course she wasn't alright. "I mean … how is he?"

Judy shrugged. "Not well. Not well at all."

Her voice was flat but scratchy with tears.

"Oh."

She had no idea what to say, what to do. Should she comfort her? Should she cry too? Should she say something, or leave, or…?

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" She asked.

Judy smiled, "That would be nice."

Andromeda escaped the strangling atmosphere of the room. Now that she was out, she felt like she could breathe again. She hated silence. Hated it with a passion, after long summers spent alone in her stuffy manor, with nothing to do and no-one who wanted to talk to her because Narcissa always had a friend around and Bella was off with Rodolphus or in service to _him._ Andy liked to steal her moments of noise whenever she could, relishing in background music and light chatter or the crackling of a fire.

She spent a while finding the refreshments room, but the lady behind the counter smiled and made idle chit-chat as the tea brewed ("You need to let it brew the proper way: four to five minutes with a stir at the end. Casting any spell on a good cuppa will wreck it. You'd do best to remember that, my girl."). She got a couple biscuits too, not sure of the last time Judy had gotten up to eat.

Andromeda found the room easily this time, taking a deep breath before taking the plunge and entering the silence.

She announced her arrival to Judy, who seemed to be staring at the wall as if it would cure her father. "Here's the tea. I bought biscuits too."

A ghost of a smile. "Thank you."

They sat in the stifling silence, Andy drawing another chair up beside Judy's. She rubbed circles on her friend's back, wondering who it helped more, not really caring because it gave her something do instead of sitting like a mannequin. Every so often she shifted the chair, the scrape of the leg on the floor breaking that silence for miniscule moments in which she could breathe again. A nurse came in every once in a while, to check in on Mr. Crouch. He was a young man who already had smile lines, and sure enough he gave both girls a sad, reassuring smile whenever he came through.

He never spoke. Andromeda wished he would. Surely this silence was eating at Judy too?

Was it selfish? To be craving something so superficial when Judy craved her father's life? It was. Of course it was, and she felt awful, because there was no way she could ever understand, having never had a loving father herself, having never faced the death of someone close.

Judy was still crying. If she went on like this, Andromeda could imagine the tear-tracks and puffiness could be a permanent addition to her face, a constantly weeping girl, a walking representative of grief. Andy hadn't cried since the holidays, since Rabastan invaded her bedroom, and she had almost forgotten the terrible, choking feeling that wrapped around the throat until she saw Judy gulping for air. What was she meant to do? How do you comfort someone in this situation?

The minutes ticked away (silently) and Andromeda wondered how long Mr. Crouch had left.


	9. Funeral

**Sorry that this has taken so long! I've been on holiday the last week, and before that… well, life was just hectic.**

 **I'd like to say thank you to Kara, a guest who has reviewed just about every chapter since I started.**

 **Sorry, it's a bit shorter than usual. Here goes…**

 **FUNERAL**

Judith came into the dormitory, and immediately Andromeda knew everything.

It was as if everything in the last few days had been waiting for this very moment, as if every breath of every seemingly irrelevant person, every twitch of the mouth, every quill-on-parchment, every word had been waiting for this. Every grim look. Every wept tear. Every beat of Mr Crouch's heart. Until it stopped. Everything stopped.

Despite what had happened, some ruthless knot inside Judy had come loose. In a way, in her own sorry way, she looked freer, as if while her heart was torn in two, a burden went with it. Her eyes didn't glisten with tears; her nose wasn't red; she held herself higher.

"Oh," Andy said, because what else was there to say?

In a way that she knew was wrong and twisted, she was relieved. Relieved that she had Judy - albeit a slightly broken version - back and that she no longer had to watch her best friend suffer. She was glad it was over. Glad a good man was dead.

In the following years, Andromeda would look back at this moment as the starting point of something bigger than herself and her family and her stupid crushes on someone who wasn't her fiancé. This, for her, marked the beginning of the war.

"Judy, I… I don't know what to say." She felt the need to whisper lest she was to break the fragility of the moment.

"Don't say anything, then. Just … don't leave." A solitary tear traced Judy's jaw. "Please don't leave me."

And yet again the wall that held back Andromeda's emotion cracked, letting a wave crash through of pity and fear and love, so she wrapped Judy Crouch, her only friend, in a bone-crushing hug, and wept.

* * *

The sun retreated and the cold crept over Hogwarts. The rain bucketed down day and night. The sky remained slate grey. The mood matched the weather.

Andromeda sat beside Judy every lesson and watched as her handwriting deteriorated from neat round lettering to a continuous scrawl. Her auburn-haired friend didn't crack a smile or make a joke, and hardly talked at all, never offering her opinion in lessons or starting conversations with anyone but Andy.

"Are you playing in the Quidditch match?" Andy asked. "It's not part of the league but it'll be good for you anyway - you can get back into the swing of things."

"No," said Judy.

Or another time,

"Will you come study with me? We've got transfiguration homework to do."

"I've done it."

And again:

"Are you sure you're alright?" (Even when she knew that Judy was _anything_ but alright.)

"Fine."

Short answers, contributing nothing more than the minimum. What had happened to Judith Crouch?

* * *

The funeral was what did it.

The rain had paused for the day, leaving that after-shower clearness in the air. The headmaster had allowed the two of them to go, giving them a portkey there and the route for the nearest floo back. It was held only five days after Mr Crouch's death, the wounds still raw, the memory still thick. The portkey was an old teddy bear with one eye and three legs, such a sad thing which did nothing for Judy's state. But finally, with minimal tears, they arrived only half a mile from the place of the funeral in their best black robes.

They walked through a forest so thick that the slate-grey sky was obscured by the mass of dark leaves. Despite this, the path was well-kept, dead leaves brushed aside and a few glowing lanterns leading the way to the clearing where the funeral was to take place.

Wizarding tombstones were traditionally grouped in families, and when they approached the treeline past which was the Crouch cemetery, Judy suddenly stopped just outside the clearing.

"I don't think I can do it."

Andy turned. "What?"

"I can't … I just can't. I just can't."

She wasn't crying this time, but her eyes were red from earlier, and her mouth twisted as if she was holding in a scream.

"Judy…" She wanted to say she understood… but did she? If her father died, would she weep? "Judy, you have to hold on. Grief … it … it's like a monster. If you don't slay it, it will only keep gnawing at you until there's no way back. And … and maybe this is it. Maybe this will help, make it more … final. You can see your mum, and hear wonderful things about your dad, and he'll rest peacefully. He … he would've wanted you to be there." Andy stuttered, reaching for any reassurance she could manage.

Judy smiled. Painfully, weakly, but it was a smile nonetheless, and that was enough. "You should be a poet."

Andy smiled back but waited for Judy to make the next move. Her friend set her face in determination and strode towards the treeline and into the clearing.

The Crouch family wasn't rich, but they were certainly comfortable, shown by the neat lines of the graves, the fresh flowers by each headstone, the perfect carved words on the faces. A sorrowful silence lay over the area, a crisp clearness that could only be found around the homes of the dead. Andromeda wondered if the afterlife was silent, and if it was, had that gaping lack of noise trickled through into the living world? Is that what made such a fragile atmosphere?

In the background, barely discernible, were the chirrups of nearby birds. Why did they sing with such joy? There should be no space for such a happy noise to permeate such a sombre occasion. Even so, it sounded not-quite-there, as if it was a memory, or separated from the mourners by a sheet of glass.

The grave was already dug, a gaping black hole into nowhere. A few scattered mourners were wandering, but none moved to speak to them, and none spoke.

There was no sign of Judy's mum.

Mr Crouch had been well loved by most of the wizarding community, so fifteen minutes later, the arrival of guests that had before been a trickle became a stream of apparating, portkeying, walking and flying witches and wizards in swirling black robes.

Andy stood by Judy the entire time, close to the grave. Judy seemed transfixed, unmoving, just staring into the inky darkness as if it contained the answers to all of life's questions.

Still no Mrs Crouch.

"We are here today to celebrate the life of Mr Jonathan Crouch."

Judy didn't even look up at the speaker who stood by the head of the open grave.

"This is a time not only for mourning, but for reflecting on the life of our late friend, and for celebrating not just what was, but what remains in his name."

No smiles or laughter or joy in the clearing … did it look like a celebration? A funeral is a funeral. A death. A coffin. Crying, crying, crying as the body is levitated through the crowd. Not a celebration. Never a celebration.

The voice continued, cutting through the crisp silence. "Those who knew Jonathan as I did will know his love for others, his appreciation for the beauty of our everyday surroundings, and his need for everyone to be happy. He would want an atmosphere gentler than this one.

"But such is the power of grief. Such is the effect of losing a loved one. Sometimes joy does not come as easily to us as he would have wanted it to. This funeral will be sad and sombre, but do not make the rest of your life so. Make it happier. For Jonathan."

Andy could see Judy shaking her head at such meaningless words. At this man, scolding mourners for mourning.

Others stood and recited rehearsed speeches, but in these Andy couldn't see through the rehearsed lines. They were about remembrance, which she did understand, but equally about celebration, and in such an environment, it was impossible to feel anything of the sort.

Eventually, Andy stopped listening, preferring to drown in the thick atmosphere.

" _Those who loved Jonathan..."_

As she looked at the faces of the people around her, she wondered why they were here. Did they come to be seen, to be observed at a popular man's funeral? Did they come for politics, to show support for the Crouch family? Did they come for a friend, to help them through it, as Andy was doing for Judy? Or did they actually care? She wondered how many were in the last category, and concluded that it couldn't be many because no-one seemed to love nowadays. Politics, politics, politics. No space for petty emotions.

" _...leading us to a better world…"_

In the last few years, Andy had seen the destruction of the wizarding world. Terrorism and hatred and loveless marriages, death and pain and unappreciated beauty. As a child, her worst day would include pouring the milk in before the tea, or spilt jam on her best robes. Now, she worried about the declining health of her mourning friend, about her miserable future with a vile man, and a war on the horizon. What had the world become?

" _...all of his loved ones are with us today…"_

Andy heard that line and paused. Really? Because where was Mrs Crouch?

She had a vision of the beautiful woman locked away in her empty house, clutching Mr Crouch's shirt to her face, crying as she read the obituary in the news. Alone, unable to even attend the funeral of her own husband.

The thought was not a pleasant one, so Andy pushed it aside.

 _Watch,_ she told herself, _and listen. Be respectful._

"So thank you. Thank you all for being here. He would appreciate it." The woman stepped down from the platform, giving a small sad smile to Judy, whose position hadn't moved.

There was a noise from the side, from in the trees, and Andromeda looked up. There, levitated above the head of four men, was the coffin. It was black, with gold trim at the edges and shining hinges. The cold seemed to follow it into the clearing, leaving Andy shivering where she stood.

Judith made a sound somewhere between and choke and a sob, the tears finally beginning to fall again, her eyes trailing after her father's coffin. Her eyes held something like longing.

Slowly - ever so slowly - the coffin lowered and lowered down into the grave, landing with a _whump_ that kicked dirt into the air.

Judy lunged forwards, still crying, and Andromeda had to grab her forearms as she pushed herself towards the open grave.

"No, Judy. You can't. He's gone, Judy. He's gone." Andy muttered, and Judy kept crying, tugging at the arms that restrained her.

"No," she muttered through tears, "No."

Finally, she stopped clawing at Andy, letting herself be pulled into a hug, crying instead into the shoulder of Andromeda's robes.

One by one, each funeral-goer flicked their wands, sending another handful of dirt into the grave. Andy did twice, for Judy, watching as the dirt slowly covered the black lid of the coffin.

And, just like that, Jonathan Crouch would never be seen again.

In the next half hour or so, nearly all the other mourners came over to pay respects at the grave. Some lay flowers, others knelt and whispered at the shining new tombstone, and most of them muttered a few comforting words to Judy, whose tears had ceased, leaving her rather shell-shocked, staring at the stone bearing her father's name as if she still couldn't believe he was dead.

Eventually, the other mourners were gone too, leaving the two of them alone in the cold, quiet clearing, just standing there together.

Flowers and fallen petals lay all around the grave, covering the bare dirt with a riot of colours that didn't quite fit in next to the dark, grim tombstone and general feel that wracked the place.

They stood there for who-knows-how-long, soaking up the feel of death, letting the breeze comb through their hair. After so long just staring, eyes boring into the marble, the skies opened up again, rain falling down in a sudden shower and landing on their eyelids, effectively waking them from whatever reverie they'd been trapped in.

Andromeda turned to her silent friend. "Shall we go?"

Judy frowned, looking at the stone one last time before nodding and turning away. Together, they hurried towards the shelter of the trees, barely looking up from their feet, not looking back at the grave.

Not looking back.

They walked through the forest and to a farmhouse in which lived a wizarding family who was happy to let others use their floo. The woman who opened the door just smiled sadly (just like everyone today had), and led them to a huge brick fireplace, ushering them through after showing them the pot of green powder.

"Look after yourselves," she said quietly.

They disappeared in a wave of green flame, shouting directions to Hogsmeade.

And there, waiting on the other side, was Rabastan Lestrange.


	10. Date with the Devil

**DATE WITH THE DEVIL**

Rabastan, leaning against the mantelpiece, smiled at her. "Enjoy the funeral?" he asked, then frowned at the tears streaming down Judy's cheeks. "Whatever is the matter with her?"

Andromeda took a moment to push down her anger. Rabastan, who had to turn up _now_ of all times, who asked the daughter of a dead man why she was crying. Rabastan, who was always there to make things more complicated.

"Her father just died," she said.

Rabastan tried to look repentant, but the jovial glint in his eyes wrecked the picture. "Ah. Of course."

He looked as he usually did, wearing fine-cut robes that for anyone else would be too expensive to wear, glasses perched on his nose, a sickly smile on his lips. He wore a silver tie pin curved into the shape of a snake, and when she looked for them, Andromeda saw a pair of skull-shaped cufflinks glittering from his sleeves.

"You're looking rather sombre, Andromeda. Was it anyone we know who died?"

She stiffened, almost feeling the wave of hatred from Judy. "It was Mr Crouch," she said, voice deadly quiet. "Judy's father. I just said that a moment ago."

"Oh. Yes, of course. Little things like that tend to slip my mind."

Itching to return to the calm and safety of the school, Andy asked, "Why are you in Hogsmeade, Rabastan? I thought you were working."

"I came here to see you, of course. Honestly, darling, is a man not allowed to visit his fiancée when said fiancée lives in a remote Scottish boarding school?"

She gave a false laugh. "We should go, Rab. It's been a long day."

"Of course," he said.

But as the girls turned to exit, ready to meet with Slughorn outside the Three Broomsticks as arranged, he called out, "Wait!"

Confused as to why he would go so far as to say something so loudly, she turned. "What is it?"

"This weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, is it not?"

"I believe it is."

"Well, we missed Valentine's. Might I ask you for a meal on Saturday?"

"Alright," Andy replied, trying to suppress a sigh. "Saturday."

"I'll meet you outside of the gates and walk you down. Goodbye, Andromeda. Saturday."

* * *

Ted and Andy were on patrol, again, the castle quiet and empty, as if they were the sole inhabitants of the school. It was on the western corridor of the third floor that Ted said: "After the business of Mr Crouch, we missed our Hogsmeade trip."

She stopped in her tracks. "Oh."

He looked panicked. "Oh. It's - it's okay if you don't want to. I mean … it's just … it's alright. Yeah, of course, I understand if-"

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but she leant forward and cut him off with a peck on the lips. It was only the slightest brush, but it left her blushing, ducking her head in embarrassment. Ted blinked, then grinned.

"Ah," he said. "It's not because of that then."

"No." She looked away, not wanting to see his disappointment, his realisation that this could _never work._ "It's … it's Rabastan. He wants to see me this weekend."

"Ah. Well … yes."

She sighed. "I wish I could just … say no. To Rab."

"Why don't you?"

"I can't. It's just … it just isn't something that's done. You can't say no."

Ted made a sound of understanding, but for the rest of the patrol, their conversation was subdued, and there was no more kissing or shy, flirty looks. Andromeda spent her time just thinking; there would always be something holding her away from Ted, or whoever else she would manage to fall in love with in her life. She could never be with who she chose.

 _(Why don't you just say no?)_

* * *

 _She was dancing in hideously tall high heels, teetering and tripping all over the place, the soles of her feet aching like a knife was slowly carving off the skin._

 _Who was she dancing with? The lights were low, and a mask obscured his entire face, his hair was covered by a hat, and even his hands were swathed in velvet gloves. Despite her clumsiness, the man waltzed her around the dance hall, past other shadowy figures in similar attire._

 _An unlit chandelier tinkled above. Waiters held trays of bubbling champagne in the corners of the room. As they danced, the shadows seemed to leap and twirl with them._

 _She looked up at him, "What is your name?"_

 _He didn't reply, not even changing his rhythm._

" _Why are you wearing that mask? Is this a masquerade ball? I must have forgotten mine."_

 _He still didn't answer, and Andromeda sighed. "I'm not sure it's necessary to ignore me. I am your partner for this whole dance, so there's no point ignoring me. Waltzes like this tend to drag on._

" _Oh, please. Come on. At least tell me your name. Only I'm in a bit of a situation here. I'm not quite sure where I am. Are you Rabastan?"_

 _No reply. Andromeda sighed, looking around the room wildly. Finding nothing to distract her, she turned back to her silent partner with a huff._

" _I don't even know who you are! Please, do tell. Who are you?"_

 _He suddenly stopped in his dance, the music halting with him. Every guest turned to look at them in silence. As Andromeda watched, the mask fell off his face, hitting the floor with a dull_ thud _. His face stared out at her, unblinking … because he had no eyes. No nose. No skin at all, in fact. Andromeda was dancing with a skeleton, his gaping eyesockets boring into her own skull, a mocking grin on his ivory face. His hands - which she now realised were sharp and bony - held tight onto her, preventing her from moving away. The music restarted and he swung her back into the rhythm._

 _They waltzed away all night._

* * *

She reached the gates late after sleeping in, her hands still quivering from the dream. The air was cool and dry, the sun shining rather weakly through a film of cloud, and the plants around the grounds were in full spring bloom. She wore a pair of Slytherin green robes with glittering diamonds around the bodice, and she had taken the time to style her hair into a complicated arrangement of braids. A heavy emerald hung from her neck, and her engagement ring glared from its spot on her finger.

He was waiting, of course, staring up at Hogwarts in a peculiar way that Andromeda couldn't quite fathom. Professor McGonagall was supervising the exit and entrance of students, and he wrinkled his nose as he saw her, eyes full of hate.

"Muggle-loving bitch," he murmured under his breath as they set off. "She hated me in school."

Andy said nothing, thinking that the stern woman had never treated any student in her classes any different to the rest unless there was a good reason for it. From what she had heard of Rabastan's school days, he hadn't exactly been an angel.

But she sighed and nodded along, acting the perfect pureblood wife-to-be and agreeing to every comment or suggestion by the husband-to-be.

The rest of the walk was an endless monologue by Rabastan, backed by sweetly singing birds and the smell of cut grass and the sun laughing brightly from the sky. The world gleamed with a glossy brilliance, like the sheen of polished silverware, and everyone else shone along with it, with hearts singing and faces merry and eyes full of joy and life.

Where Andy walked, there was no gloss. There seemed to be a cold area surrounding her fiancé, shrouding her in murky gloom, leaving her heart to shrivel from the stiffness of the ordeal, her eyes to turn into orbs of glass, her bones to freeze where they stood. Her robes were restricting, squeezing the air out of her lungs. She nearly tripped several times over the heels of her shoes. When Rabastan put his clammy hand onto her shoulder, it felt like Death's own grip taking her into his grasp.

Needless to say, the sunny day was not as jolly as it should have been.

They reached a small café on the far side of town, which stood completely empty. Rab had clearly booked the entire room because the three waitresses were lined up against the counter waiting for them.

The girl on the left smiled sweetly. "Good afternoon, Mr Lestrange and Miss Black. Please do take a table; your Afternoon Tea will be ready shortly."

Rabastan took a table by the window and pulled a chair out for Andromeda, waiting for her to sit before tucking her in. He took the chair opposite her.

"You booked the entire café?" She asked, staring around the empty room.

"Yes," he said, looking entirely too casual about it.

There was a sharp silence until the tea came.

It started with the drinks: two little teapots and china teacups, with jugs of milk and cream and sugar and honey.

"How long have they been brewing?" Rab asked the waitress.

"We've only just put the teabags in, sir."

"And what is the tea?" Andromeda spoke up.

Rabastan turned to her. "I ordered Earl Grey for you. Is that alright?"

He nodded and sat back, eyes dark and expectant as if the tea would brew faster if he stared enough.

Andy examined the teacups, tracing the delicate patterns with her thumb, wondering how hard she would have to press before it shattered into a million shards.

Just as the tea brewed, the waitresses brought over a triple-tier stand full of finger sandwiches.

Rabastan took a ham and mustard sandwich while Andy slid a smoked salmon with cream cheese onto her own plate.

"How is school?" Rabastan asked.

"Fine," she said.

"I cannot believe we haven't seen each other since Christmas. Time seems to have flown since then - it's March already!"

She smiled and nodded meekly.

"And of course I must apologise for missing St. Valentine's day. I was … occupied by something rather pressing."

"Oh. What was that?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose and brushed an invisible piece of lint from his robes. "Work for the Dark Lord," he said, voice more pompous and haughty than usual.

"Ah."

One of the waitresses cleaning a table near them had stopped in her work, eyes wide. Rabstan frowned and made a shooing motion with his hands and she skittered off behind the counter.

"Isn't your work rather confidential?" Andy asked tentatively.

"The Ministry isn't doing a thing. We could kill Albus Dumbledore and they would pretend nothing's happening. Besides, I know who these waitresses are - they're too terrified to tell anyone."

After the rest of the sandwiches were devoured (these included cucumber, egg mayonnaise with watercress, and coronation chicken), the scones were delivered. Pots of cream and jars of jam accompanied them, and soon enough they were spreading it on the buttery bakes.

Rabastan raised an eyebrow at Andromeda. "Cream first?"

"Yes. I see you do the opposite."

He laughed. "Jam first, my darling. Jam is always first." *

She sighed, wincing as she watched him spread clotted cream on top of the jam.

After the scones came homemade cakes and pastries so small Andromeda was afraid they would get lost in her hands. The entire time - consisting of the cakes and another pot of tea each (Andy went for Darjeeling and Rab for Lapsang Souchong) - was spent by Andromeda trying not to retch at every movement from her fiancé. He had brushed his hand against hers when they had both reached for the pot of milk, and every so often he would brush his ankle up her leg, presumably thinking it was a soothing motion. It wasn't.

She could hardly spend a minute in his company without dying a little inside, losing more hope, because this was the man she was to spend her life with. He would become her entire life. No time for Judy or for Ted, just too-expensive afternoon teas and an ankle creeping up her shins.

Rabastan nodded to the waitresses and swung his cloak over his shoulder, offering a hand to help Andy up. They exited the same way they had entered - in silence - and Rab led the way.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," he said. She did not like the look on his face.

Across the street, down an alleyway, and another, and suddenly he had her pressed against the bricks, and his lips were on hers. It all came back - hours spent weeping in that tiny bedroom, his hands all over her, his lips sucking and biting wherever he pleased. This time, his hands settled on her waist, pressing her back into the wall. (She wished he could disappear into it.). His chapped lips. Heat. A tongue exploring her mouth. A hand moving up to mess up her previously perfect hair. Goosebumps cascading down her arms. Heat in her face, where he touched her, but terribly cold inside.

Finally, he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath. His face was still mere centimetres from hers, and as he exhaled she struggled not to cough on his rancid breath.

"I've missed you, Andromeda. Oh, I've missed you," he breathed, then leant forward to attack her lips again.

* * *

 *** For the cream tea - spread the cream first, THEN the jam. Jam is on top. ALWAYS.**

 **Ah. I love afternoon tea. Not with Rabastan, though he could buy the most expensive things on the menu, I guess.**

 **.**

 **Sorry, this took so long! I think I need more reviews to spur me into action…**

 **(See that hint? Yes? See what I'm trying to say?)**


	11. Wrong Way

**Lots of snapshots. Short. I promise next chapter will be meaty.**

 **It's been a while. I just … I dunno. I'm a busy gal.**

 **Thanks to Prawn Flamingo (guest) for spurring me on. You've left a lot of lovely reviews on several of my stories, so thank you so much.**

 **I wasn't sure what to do for this chapter. Follow Archer nut's advice and turn Rabastan into a rubber duck or a public toilet? Thanks for that review - it really made me laugh!**

* * *

 **WRONG WAY**

The moment Andromeda reached the castle, she lunged for the nearest toilets and vomited in the sink. The last bout dripped down her chin and hit her hanging locks of hair.

Breathing. In, out, in, out. Choking on her foul-tasting breath, retching up her rolling stomach. Hands on the cold taps and splashing her face with water. Then just leaning over, shoulders slumped and hair dangling down. A small head movement and her eyes caught the mirror. Her face was so pale it was nearly translucent, her eyes wide.

To escape the view of her own phantom-like figure, she sat against the base of the sink, put her head between her hands, and wept.

* * *

She didn't go to supper that evening.

She knew it was selfish. If not for her, shouldn't she have gone to keep Judy company? Wasn't her friend going through something worse than she was right then?

She couldn't bring herself to face Narcissa when there are tears down her cheeks. She couldn't bring herself to smile for Judy's sake. She couldn't bring herself to ignore the questioning glances Ted would surely throw at her.

She wanted to cry. She had, in fact, cried herself hoarse but she wanted to do it over and over again, if only to make herself feel a little better. Not that it did. Not that it would've.

She wasn't making sense.

Face buried in her pillow, she ignored her roommates when they filtered in from supper, pretending to be asleep when she heard Judy's tentative, " _Andromeda?"._

Andromeda prayed she looked realistically asleep (though she doubted it - if anyone slept in that position, they'd surely suffocate).

Twenty minutes later, when Dolores and her gaggle had gone to sleep, Judy parted Andromeda's bed hangings and climbed in.

"Shove over," she whispered, taking her wand out to perform a few silencing charms, before awkwardly shuffling until she was under the duvet. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Andromeda said quietly. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing. If it was nothing, you'd sit up and smile and we'd talk about the ugliness of my new shoes."

She choked on tears. "What else? What else, if it was nothing?"

Judy shifted by her side until she had turned to face her. "Well, you'd make a stupid joke and we'd giggle about boys and complain about homework and I'd ask what you were doing for Easter and you'd ask what _I_ was doing for Easter, and we'd stay up all night nattering away about nothing at all."

"And?"

"And in the end, we'd realise we had transfig homework, and we'd panic and do it quickly, but it would be okay, because we'd have organised meeting up at Easter, and we'd complained until all our complaint had flown away, and the next day we'd have to nap in history."

Andy imagined it. Last term, it would've been believable. Many a time had they stayed up all night and spent the next day traversing the school like zombies. Many a time had they talked and talked and talked the worries away.

Now?

Not so.

* * *

Patrolling, again, the shadows from the corners in every corridor creeping closer to her, stroking the fine hairs at the back of her neck.

"Ted, do you believe in good and evil?"

He looked at her, brow furrowed. "I think so. But I would label only the vilest of men as evil. And only the most angelic as good."

She frowned. "Alright."

"I think you're good, Andy. Your heart is so, so good."

"Is it, though?" She sped up a little down the corridor, the shadows cooling at her back. He had to jog a few steps to catch up. "In … in only three years I will be the same as the rest of them. Do you think my mother was like me, at this age? Do you think she wanted to marry my father? I wonder, sometimes, if I will turn out like her." She stopped all of a sudden, looking straight at him. "If I turn out like that, you must tell me. And tell me to stop before I become truly evil."

He gaped. "You could never be evil, Andy. Not to me."

She sat on a stone bench to their left and put her head in her hands. "But my family is-"

"No. You can't blame your family. They are who they are. You are you. And you are beautiful and brilliant. Come to Hogsmeade with me at the weekend?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Aright."

* * *

 _My dearest Andromeda,_

 _I enjoyed our outing tremendously on Saturday and I hope it's not too much to inquire when your next Hogsmeade weekend is? Only I can barely stand to be parted from you again as we have been recently. After all, we are to be married, so we must get to know each other, no?_

 _All my love,_

 _your Rabastan._

She folded it carefully and put it in her pocket, breathing in and then out.

 _We are to be married._

Not even an 'if'.

* * *

She stared at Edward's broad back all through Charms. And at the way he chewed on the end of his quill. And at the way the sunlight made his hair look like spun gold. And-

 _Shut up._

She had to stop this.

* * *

"We have to stop this."

"Ted, we have to stop this."

"This has gone too far."

"Ted, you know I'm engaged."

"Edward, I'm afraid we can't see each other anymore."

"Let me go!"

"Just … stop making me love you, alright?"

"We have to stop this."

"We're over."

"This is the end. This is it."

"It can't go on like this."

She stared into the mirror. At her stone-cold features and clenched jaw. At her eyes that grew duller with every word.

She had to stop this.

"We have to stop this."

* * *

 _Rabastan,_

 _I'm afraid that I have made prior engagements with a dear friend of mine for the next Hogsmeade weekend. I will, however, be delighted to meet you when I am next available, which is in two months time exactly. I too have missed you._

 _Andromeda._

* * *

She was treading a thin line. As she stepped forwards, she wobbled and the rope beneath her feet creaked a little. Heavy breathing. Heart beating. Body shuddering with an ethereal liquid drifting through her soul.

To her left was the sun, shining through clear sky. To her right was a swarming darkness ridden with beasts.

She sighed, then plummeted as the rope dropped into the void below.

When she woke, she couldn't remember which way she fell.

* * *

Antonin Dolohov eyed her as she walked through the common room, head held high. His cold gaze seemed to pierce her facade. She looked away and clutched her books tighter to her chest. It felt like her thoughts were shouting through her shut lips, shining through her eyes, bursting from a million tears in her skin. Her secrets were laid bare for the whole world. Could he see her relationship with Ted, her hatred towards Rabastan? Could he see how terrified and resentful she was of this Dark Lord? Could he see her fear of him, of every other Slytherin with that cursed mark twisting under the skin on their forearm?

Lessons were spent with a python wrapped around her neck, squeezing tighter with every scratch of quill on parchment, every glance towards Ted Tonks.

(Ted Tonks, Ted Tonks, Ted Tonks, Ted Tonks.)

 _I'm sorry_ , she said to herself and to him, in her mind. _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

She had to stop this. All of it. It had to end or the marriage would become sour, would condemn her to a life of being silently hated by a foul man, paying for her sins every day. Worse, she would spend every hour longing for Ted rather than for her husband. That is why this had to stop. She couldn't tempt herself like this any longer.

She had to the end would bring pain but she falling, falling, falling into a pit of despair _choose,_ the voice said, _choose_ and the rope fell the walls pressing in she couldn't breathe couldn't speak tight around her mouth, muffling her voice buried in grave dirt drowning drowning drowning choose help me help me help me _just bloody CHOOSE already!_

And again (again) she cried herself to sleep.

Drowning in tears.

Because how could she make this choice between an angel and a monster?

 **Dunno what happened there. Do you like it? Hate it? Let me know!**


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